CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICIVIH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  Microraproductiont  /  Inttitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiont  historiqua* 


1995 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes ,  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  beljw. 


^ 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I      Covers  damaged  / 

' — '      Couverture  endommagee 

I     I      Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 

I     I      Cover  title  missing  /  Le  litre  de  couverture  manque 

I     1      Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 

n?     Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 

Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

1^      Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
—      Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I      Bound  with  other  material  / 

Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 

I     I      Only  edition  available  / 
' — '      Seuie  edition  disponible 

I  I  Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  Interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serr^e  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  interieure. 

I  I  Hank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
t)een  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajout^es  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  etS  film^es. 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procure:  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-etre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  meth- 
ode  normals  de  filmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

I     I      Coloured  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

r^    Pages  damaged/ Pages  endommagees 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
—      Pages  restaurees  et/ou  pclliculees 


Q- 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  decolorees,  tachet^s  ou  piquees 


r~]      Pages  detached/ Pages  detachees 

r^     Showfthrough  /  Transparence 

I     1      Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualite  inegale  de  I'impression 

I     I      Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tirFues.  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  ete  filmees 
a  nouveau  de  fapon  a  obtenir  la  meilleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
—  discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


This  iittn  is  filmed  «t  the  rtduction  ratio  chtckcd  below/ 

Ce  document  est  f  ilme  au  taux  de  reduction  imtique  ct-<lessous. 

IDX  14X  18X 


CE 


t2X 


J 

XX 


ax 


Th*  copy  tilmtd  h«r*  ha*  bmn  raproducad  thank* 
to  tha  s*naro(itv  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  filmt  fut  raproduit  grlca  i  la 
SAnaroiit*  da: 

Bibliotheque  nationals  du  Canada 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


Original  eopiat  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
lion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copia*  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firit  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
aion,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  llluatratad  impraaaion. 


Laa  imagaa  auivanta*  ont  M  raproduitaa  avac  la 
plu*  grand  aoin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattata  da  raxamplaira  fllma.  at  an 
eonformitt  avac  laa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
fllmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvortura  an 
papiar  aat  Imprimaa  sont  fllmaa  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  toit  par  la 
darniara  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'illustration,  aoit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  aalon  la  caa.  Tou*  laa  autraa  axamplairaa 
originaux  iont  (ilmto  an  commanpant  par  la 
pramiara  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iiluatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  lalla 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microflcha 
ahall  contain  tha  aymboi  ■^w-  {moaning  "CON- 
TKiiUED").  or  tha  symbol  ▼  Imaaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa. 

Mapa,  plataa.  charts,  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratio.    Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  a\  >osura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft    and  eornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frama*  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Un  daa  aymbola*  suivanta  apparaitra  sur  la 
darnitra  Imaga  da  ehaqua  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbola  ^^signifia  "A  SUIVRE '.  la 
aymbola  V  signifia  "FIN". 

Laa  cartaa,  planchaa,  tablaaux,  ate.  pauvant  itre 
filmts  i  daa  taux  da  reduction  diffarants. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clicht,  11  ast  filma  i  partir 
da  I'angla  aupAriaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  A  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imaga*  nacaaaaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illuatrant  la  mathoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION  TEST  CHART 

[ANSI  ond  liO  TEST  CHART  No.  2| 


1.0    gis  li^ 


^  /APPLIED  IIVMGE 

^S\  1653   East   Moin   Slree) 

r.S  Rochester,   Men  Yofk         U609       US, 

'JS  (716)   «a2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^^  (716)   288  -  59S9  -  Fq» 


■r 


r 


/ 


^HE   NEW   DAWN 


She  felt  ralhcr  than  saw  the  shadow  on  his  face 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


BY 

AGNES  C.  LAUT 

ACTHOR  OF  "  FREEBOOTIKS  OP  THE  WILDERNESS,' 
"LORDS  01  THE  NORTH,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

1913 


.'-7- 


COPYMGBT  1913,   BY  KOFFAT,  VARD  AND  COHPANT 

All  Rights  Resemd 

PDBUSHEI),  NOVEHBEE,  I9I3 


CONTENTS 


I. 

II. 

III. 


IV. 


V. 


VI. 


Part  I. 
The  Win  for  Power. 

*  PAGE 

WARD  STUDIES  THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  .   .       ii 
WARD  ADOPTS  A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  ...       26 
WHEREIN  TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT  CON- 
TINUES TO  PLAY  AN  INTERESTING  PART 

IN  THE  SCHEMES  OF  MISS  FATE 45 

WHEREIN  TOM  WARD  GOES  ON  THE  FIRST 

RUNGS  OF  THE  LADDER 56 

A  DOUBLE  CROSS  AND  A  DOUBLE  SHUFFLE 

AND  THE  PRICE  OF  POWER 66 

THE  REWARD j, 


vn. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 


Part  II. 
In  the  Fullness  of  His  Power. 

WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE go 

WARD'S   CREED   IN   PRACTICE jog 

MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED  IN  PRACTICE  .   .  1,6 

THE  CREED  AND  A  GIRL ijj 

THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT  BY  LITTLE  MEN 

AND  LESS  BRAINS ,jj 

THE  CREED  IN  THE  LITTLE  MAN  WITH  A 

CONSCIENCE jjo 


CONTENTS 
Part  in. 

„„,  PACE 

XIII.  THE   CREED   THAT  THE   GREATER   POWER 

WINS 

XIV.  THE  CREED  IN  A  WIFE 

XV.    THE   CREED   WORKED   OUT   BY   PLEASURE 

SEEKERS  

XVI.  THE  CREED  AND  THE  LABOR  LEADER    '  'Z 
XVII.  AFTERWARDS 

2XX 

XVin.  ONE  W.\Y  TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE  j., 

XIX.  TO  STRENGTH  AND  WILL-ADD  PURPOSE        2,0 

XX.  THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION  ...  .^^ 

XXI.  THE  CREED  IN  ACTION 

XXII.  THE    MOMENTUM    THAT   PUSHES    US    FOR- 
WARD   

XXIIL  BY-PRODUCTS  NOT  included' IN  LEDGERS    33" 


XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVTII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV 


Part  IV. 
Power  Triumphant. 

THE  CREED  RECKONS  WITH  DEMOS  ,60 

UNMOORED     

OLD  FRIENDS  IN  STRANGE  PLACES  .    .  387 

MADELINE  MEETS  THE  GRIM  SHADOW  -or 

AFTERWARDS 

41  r 

WHEN  LABOR  ADOPTS  THE  BRUTE  CREED  4^8 
WARD  REVISES  HIS  CREED  . 

BUT  IT  IS  TOO  LATE ° 

THE  DAWN                                                ''  '' 

476 

THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  ....  .g^ 

THE  ARMAGEDDON 

THE  GREAT  FACT  OF  ALL  CREEDS  .'   .'  .'   '  .'    ^ 


I 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  woman,  with  black  hair  massed  at  the  neck,  entered 


disdainfully 


(Outside  Cover) 


She  felt  rather  than  saw  the  shadow  of  his  face.     FrmUsp; 
That  she  was  being  watched"  . 
"So  she  pointed" 


PAGE 
260 


310 


THE   NEW   DAWN 

PART    I 
THE    WILL   FOR    POWER 


I 


CHAPTER    I 

WARD  STUDIES  THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS 

The  young  fellow  studied  the  face  of  the  great 
capitalist  as  he  had  never  before  studied  any  face 
in  his  life — youth  wresting  secrets  from  age;  trying 
to  solve  the  riddles  which  youth  has  not  yet  had  the 
experience  to  understand. 

The  elder  man  stood  erect,  hands  in  pockets,  be- 
hind the  wicket  of  the  sh!p  yards'  office.  Clerks 
were  paying  out  checks  to  the  long  lines  of  work- 
men— seven  thousand  there  were  in  the  lines  where 
the  boy  stood.  In  the  president's  appearance  there 
was  nothing  remarkable.  He  was  slightly  bald,  and 
clean-shaven  except  for  a  close-cropped  mustache. 
A  hard  firmness  of  jaw  and  massiveness  of  shoulder 
power  and  chest  gave  evidence  of  strength  and  reso- 
lution to  battle  with  tasks— perhaps,  of  sheer  de- 
light in  the  game  of  life  being  complex  and  difficult 
and  baffling.    He  reminded  the  young  workman  of 


12 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


la      al  rt   Ih  Tu"  ""=  P-^-^-Kile.  muscu- 

lar   alert  ,n  bra>n  and  brawn,  with  crushing  force 
hidden   away   somewhere   in   his   personality      H 
yes  were  cold,  unemotional,  steady,  seeing  L  end 
from  wh,ch  h.s  will  would  never  swerve,  ^treng'h 
•  •   •  •   strength  o(  body  and  mind;  Will  the 

r   k'°or  St''"'  '"=  ^'■P"'^  •  •  ■  •  '"^  ^  shining 
mark  or  star that  was  the  man,   with  the 

qu.ck  judgment  that  leaps  to  conclusions  and  he 
conscence    that    scruples    at    nothing  .  Con 

'"^""^ ,  Why,  this  man  would  have  no  con- 

c,ence  except  the  consciousness  of  failure!  Ward 
looked  at  h,m  and  knew  these  things  as  surely  as 
he  knew  that  the  president  of  the  co  .pany  had  the 
cold  blue  eyes  of  a  woods  hunter! 

Superfically,  the  president  of  the  ship  yards  re- 
sembled the  general  ru..  of  prosperous  people    He 
was  well  groomed,  but  not  so  well-dressed  as  to  di 
rect  attention  to  dress.     Above  all,  he  was    piritu- 
w  I  'fi'r'^'y.  -'^-'l-tly  healthy-"fit  ••  That 

^    at  man^,      '""^  "°^''"^"  '°°'^'='l  '"^'=^   '°  the 
great  man  s  eyes-no  remorse,  no  pity,  no  thought 

of  good  or  ,11,  only  masterful  purpose  bent  to  an 

unswervmg   end;   but   wait  .  .  i f   the   Ld   Z 

s7dL^r:;j:rtr'^^°-j^r-'— ^^^^^ 

sidle,  and,  if  the  aim  receded  as  this  man  advanced 
he  would  pursue.  The  boy  knew  this  in  a  vague 
son  of  way  from  his  own  life.  As  a  little  chap  fiv 
".g  a  starving  sort  of  life  on  the  edge  of  Shan^ 
Town,  he  remembered  that  his  sole  ambition  had 


THE  Sr-CRET  OF  SUCCESS  13 

been  to  get  a  footing— any  kind  of  footing— in  the 
big  ship  yards.    When  he  had  gone  home  to  tell  his 
mother  that  he  was  to  be  messenger  boy  at  a  do!- 
lar  and  a  half  a  week  he  had  been  so  mad  with  hap- 
piness  all  night  that  he  could  not  sleep;  but,  inside 
of  a  month,  he  had  set  his  aim  to  advance  to  the 
p  ace  of  the  boy  who  helped  the  blast  furnace  men 
Now,  at  eighteen,  he  was  second  furnace  man,  earn- 
mg  seventy  a  month;  and  it  had  been  forcing  itself 
on  him  for  the  last  year  that  he  could  not  save  much 
more  on  seventy  a  month  than  he  used  to  at  a  dol- 
lar and  a  half  a  week.     Something  amiss   in  the 
home  off  the  edge  of  Shanty  Town  absorbed  all  his 
thrift  and  foresight  like  an  absorbing  sponge;  but 
that  did  not  quench  his  desire  to  get  on.     He  was 
furnace  man  now;  but  he  knew  progress  would  be 
blocked  unless  he  did  one  of  two  things— joined  the 
iron  workers'  union,   or  lifted  himself  to  another 
plane  of  work.     He  was  using  his  hands  now.     Un- 
less  he  could  climb  up  where  he  would  use  both  his 
head  and  his  hands— and  that  was  what  he  was  try- 
ing to  read  in  the  face  of  the  president  As 
fast  and  far  as  the  aim  receded,  this  man  would  pur- 
sue It. 

Young  Ward  felt  strangely  moved.  If  it  had 
been  in  a  religious  meeting  instead  of  in  the  long 
lines  of  the  ship  yards'  workers  waiting  for  their 
pay,  we  would  say  he  was  undergoing  a  change  of 
heart,  a  rebirth.  It  was  half  attraction,  half  fear 
wholly  admiration,  and  not  a  vestige  of  the  jealous 
resentment  which  many  feel  toward  those  who  beat 


14  THE    NEW   DAWN 

them  in  the  game  of  life.  Ward  was  keen  to  get 
into  the  arena  to  play  the  game  of  life  with  all  its 
odds  and  handicaps,  and  never  a  whimper  for  one 
of  theml 

The  long  lines  kept  moving  up  to  the  pay  wickets. 
The  men  kept  shuffling  out  as  they  exchanged  their 
checks  for  cash  envelopes;  and  Ward  knew  exactly 
where  many  of  those  fattest  pay  envelopes  would 
disgorge  themselves  before  Monday  morning.  The 
chasm  between  the  man  behind  the  wicket  and  the 
man  in  front  of  it  was  wider  than  the  chasm  be- 
tween Lazarus  in  Heaven  and  Dives  in  Hell.  Why 
....  theboy  asked  himself;  and  again  the  realiza- 
tion came Given  ....  Strength  .... 

Will  ....  Purpose:  the  result  blazed  in  letters 
of  fire  ...  .  There  could  be  only  one  result  .... 
Success  .... 

Then,  the  singsong  of  the  pay  clerk  calling  out 
....  Tom  Ward  ....  six-six-eight — eight  .... 
He  was  only  a  number  ....  yet,  only  one  of  an 
infinite  number  of  moiling  millions;  and  the  earth 
was  limed  with  the  bones  of  the  dead  of  such  as  he. 
As  Ward  signed  his  initials  to  the  pay  list  he  felt 
his  employer  eyeing  him.  It  caused  a  tingle  of  hope 
that  was  ridiculous;  for  the  great  man  may  not  have 
noticed  him;  still  less,  suspected  that  he  was  planting 
a  seed  in  the  mind  of  a  smudgy  hobble-de-hoy  in 
blue  overalls,  destined  to  overshadow  nations  in  its 
growth.  The  stillest  hours  may  be  the  greatest 
hours;  for  the  birth  of  a  new  thought  dated  from 
that  moment. 


Th  •  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  ij 

When  he  left  the  olficc,  young  Ward  did  not 
board  the  tramcar  with  the  other  workers.  He 
wanted  to  be  alone  ....  to  think!  He  had  a 
vague  consciousness  that  men,  who  didn't  stand  back, 
alone  and  aloof,  detached  from  vei-min  and  vatr.. 
pires,  from  sponges  and  parasites  ....  to  think, 
were  sure  to  become  dray  horses,  oxen  yoked  to  the 
treadmill  of  bootless  toil — muzzled  oxen,  too,  per- 
haps, not  permitted  to  snatch  at  grain  trodden  from 
the  mill  of  toil  for  other  men.  His  thoughts  were 
running  he  had  no  idea  where,  though  he  knew  if  he 
did  not  succeed  in  realizing  some  of  them  that  he 
world  be  in  a  maelstrom  of  life-long  discontent. 
Wc  think  that  material  things  dominate  life,  how 
much  we  earn,  how  much  we  .-.pend,  what  we  eat  and 
wear;  but  here  was  a  grimy  youth  earning  and 
spending  much  the  same  as  seven  thousand  other  em- 
ployees in  the  ship  yards;  and  what  marked  him 
out  from  the  others  forever  was  the  new  thought 
born  in  his  soul  ...  the  resolution  to  Strength 
.  .  .  and  Will  ....  and  Power! 

Quickly  crossing  the  commons,  he  struck  along 
the  river  road  through  the  woods.  Neither  the 
flakes  of  cloud  rose-red  in  the  sunset,  ncr  a  shimmer- 
ing haze  of  spring  hanging  over  the  gray-green  fields 
in  a  veil— caught  the  eye  of  young  Tom  Ward.  His 
thoughts  were  chaos;  and  out  of  chaos  are  flung 
new  stars.  Just  above  the  apple  bloom  and  lilac 
hedges  a  star  picked  through  the  gray  twilight,  a 
diamond  point  in  a  veil  of  mist;  but  the  star  rising 
for  Ward  unknown  to  himself  shone  far  down  life's 


i6 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


hazy  trail  beckoning  from  a  rosy  glow  raved  with 
hope,  quivering  and  pulsing  with  a  new  electrifying 
fire;  and  its  name  was  ....  Success  .  .  .  that 
much  he  knew  ...  He  was  going  to  do  the  thing 
called  .  .  .  Success;  or  die  game  and  at  it! 

f  le  scented  blossoms  gave  a  riotous  sense  of  new 
lift      .  .  .  joyous    life  ....  life    at    the    foam 
....  as  though  he  had  kicked  off  rags  and  tatters 
of  a  mean  sordid  existence,  as  he  nightly  kicked  off 
his  grimed  overalls,  and  leaped,  washed  and  clean 
and  keen  to  the  race  tracks  of  life,  where  he  was 
going  to  run  to  win,  whether  or  no!     The  spring 
lights  flickering  the  gray-green  fields  were  not  edged 
so  bright  a  gold  as  the  hopes  thrown  off  by  his  own 
thoughts.     It  was  not  the  ticklingi  of  vanity,  of 
passion  at  its  spring  tide  in  the  veins  of  youth.    The 
ideal  he  w.is  building  in  flashes  of  thought  and  de- 
termination and  fiope  was  not  an  idol  with  sawdust 
stuffing  made  up  of  ego;  he  didn't  see  himself  be- 
coming a  little  tin  god  set  up  on  the  necks  of  other 
men,  spoonfed  with  adulation,  slathered  with  flat- 
tery.   It  was  zest  of  the  joy  of  life  ....  the  race 
.   .  .  .  the    game  ...  the    pursuing  ...  not   the 
winning!  Success  didn't  consist  of  getting  hold  of 
tangible  chunks  of  something  and  sitting  hatching  on 
it  like  an  old  hen  till  life  became  addled  and  rot- 
ten ...  .  Success  consisted  in  this  game-thing,  this 
coursing  the  race  track  of  life  .  .  .  this  aihieving 
and  pursuing  a  fleet-footed  aim  higher  and  farther 
and  wider  afield  ....  He'd  found  the  secret  of 
life  ...  of  youth  ...  or  being  ...  of  doing! 


1 


THE  SPXRET  OF  SUCCESS  17 

.  .  .  Once  hidden  by  the  woods  Ward  threw  out 
his  chest,  tossed  down  liis  dinner  pail,  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  the  spring  air,  and  uttered  x  boyish  yell 
of  exultation!  .  .  .  Life  ....  was  good 
spite  of  hard  knocks  in  Shanty  Town!  Life  .... 
was  wine  in  pulsing  joyous  veins!  Hope,  rose-red, 
edged  with  gold,  suffused  itself  through  the  bright 
future  of  his  ilreains  ....  Success  ....  Success 
at  any  price  of  body  or  soul,  time  or  work  ...  he 
was  going  to  have  this  Success  Thing  ....  if 
Strength  and  Will  and  Purpose  would  do  it  I 

To  be  sure,  there  were  hanilicaps;  so  there  were 
in  all  races;  but  the  fleet  of  foot  left  handicapf  be- 
hind!  For  seven  years  he  had  done  a  man's  work 
with  a  boy's  body,  supporting  a  father  whose  sole 
belief  was  that  he  should  increase  the  race — not 
maintain  it — and  whose  belief  took  form  in  eight 
more  children  than  he  could  suppoit.  He  had  been 
handicapped  by  burdens  that  others  had  Dound, 
handicapped  by  lack  of  education,  by  lack  of  train- 
ing except  such  as  the  hard  and  effective  knocks  of 
life  afforded,  by  lack  of  a  start  where  his  ancestors 
had  left  off.  Tom  Ward  senior  having  fallen  be- 
hind in  the  progress  of  the  race,  Tom  Ward  junior 
must  make  up  lost  ground.  He  remembered  just 
before  the  mortgage  had  been  foreclosed  on  the  old 
farmstead,  which  his  ancestors  had  won  from  the 
Indians  at  d  worked  for  two  hundred  years — was 
it  the  fifth  or  sixth  baby  that  had  been  born?  . 
he  couldn't  remember  that;  but,  anyway,  the  doctor 
was  in  his  mother's  room ;  and  the  pale-faced  little 


i8 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


girls— the  others  of  the  family  were  all  girls— were 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed;  and  a  little  red- 
faced  mite  of  something  human  lay  muffled  in  white 
beside  his  mother;  and  the  doctor  had  looked  frst 
at  the  mother  s  weary  face,  then  at  the  wan  little 
girls,  then  at  himself,  at  that  time,  a  sturdy  farm 
boy  of  ten. 

"How  is  it  your  eldest  boy  is  such  a  husky  little 
piker  when  the  others  aren't?"  asked  the  doctor 
genially.  ' 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  had  hopes  and  dreams  and  happy 
thoughts  before  Tom  came,"  his  mother  had  an- 
swered.  He  hadn't  known,  then,  what  she  meant. 
1  here  came  a  queer  look  to  the  doctor's  face.  He 
blew  his  nose  like  a  piece  of  pulpit  artillery. 

"Well,  Tom's  a  throw-back  to  the  good  old 
stock  that  pioneered  these  New  England  hills,"  the 
doctor  had  said. 

"Yes,  Tom  resembles  his  grandfather,"  his 
mother  had  answered.  Then,  his  father  had  come 
in,  red-faced,  wagging  his  beard.  As  a  child  he  had 
not  understood,  then;  but  he  realized  now.  It  was 
his  mother's  inheritance  that  his  father's  blundering 
had  dispersed;  and  even  then  all  the  children  knew 
that  the  father  resented  people  talking  to  his  mother 
—hated  her  superiority.  Perhaps,  it  was  the  gruel- 
ing ar  J  gnlimg  of  that  daily  sad  spectacle  in  his 
childhood  home  that  had  rooted  out  of  his  own 
nature  any  jealousy  to  superiority.  Anyway,  he 
was  "a  throw-bark  to  the  good  old  stock,"  whatever 
that  was,  and  had  ten  times  more  energy  ir.  lis  little 


THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  19 

finger  than  the  rest  of  the  family  had  in  two  gener- 
ations.    Then,  the  mortgage  had  been  foreclosed; 
and  his  people  joined  the  procession  of  the  thou- 
sands who  flocked  from  farm  to  factory,  exchanging 
the  birth-right  of  broad  acres  for  the  mess  of  pot- 
tage in  town  tenement.     They  had  never  quite  come 
down  to  tenement  life.     His  earnings  as  messenger 
boy  had  paid  the  rent  of  a  small  house  on  the  edge 
of  phanty  Town,  between  the  woods  and  the  sea. 
"We  can  keep  our  bodies  and  souls  clean  here,  at 
all  events,"  his  mother  had  said  wearily   as  the  boy 
had  passed  stove  pipes  and  broken   crockery  and 
backless  chairs  and  babies  down  off  the  farm  wagon 
into  the  little  shabby  house. 

But  to-night,  with  the  rose-red  of  the  sunset  aslant 
through  the  lilac  hedges  and  the  rose-red  of  his  reso- 
lution tinting  ihe  future  with  the  pure,  steady  light 
of  one  guiding  star— his  courage  took  a  leap  out 
beyond  all  handicaps.  He  understood  now  what 
"a  throw-back  to  the  good  old  stock"  meant.  By 
the  light  of  the  furnace,  when  he  was  fireman  to  the 
night  shift,  he  had  read  the  ship  yards'  library 
voraciously.  He  also  knew  now  that  if  some  men 
had  not  leaped  beyond  the  heritage  of  their  handi- 
caps the  human  race  might  yet  be  slinking  through 
the  jungle  in  pursuit,  not  of  stars,  but  prey. 

Sweat  was  oozing  from  his  shaggy  hair  in  beads. 
His  temples  pounded  like  hammers.  Ward  knew 
the  pain  of  concentrated  joy  in  the  birth-throes  of 
his  hopes.  Strength  ....  Will  ....  Purpose! 
The  secret  ...  he  had  it  at  last!    He  was  going 


20 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


to  "make  the  race  tracks  of  life  hum,  by  God;  and 
Devil  take  the  hindermostl"  He  was  sick  of  in- 
competents, of  unfits,  of  sponges  and  parasites  and 
no-goods  and  grurablers  at  life,  whose  refrain  was 
self  pity,  and  whose  fate  that  of  the  swine  that  went 
over  the  precipice  into  the  sea  I 

Ward  sat  down  on  a  log  with  hands  linked  round 
one  knee  and  eyes  fixed  on  space  .  .  .  There  were 
really  two  worlds  ...  the  Ups  and  the  Downs 
....  the    On-Tops    and    the    Unders  ....  the 

Commanders  and  the  Commanded Why? 

....  Then  the  same  thought  back  like  a  battle 
cry  ....  Strength  .  .  .  Will  ....  Purpose  .... 
The  result  must  be  Success;  and  success  meant 
power,  the  game,  pursuing  a  fleet-of-foot  aim  up 
and  out  and  beyond  I  .  .  .  Ward  jumped  to  his  feet 
with  a  second  joyous  yell. 

"Gee-whizz  1  One  of  the  shovel  stiffs  from  your 
ship  yards,  Admiral  Westerly;  and  he's  got  bats  in 
his  belfry,"  cried  the  broken  falsetto  of  a  youth  in 
adolescence;  and  Tom  Ward  crumpled  up  in  hot 
red-faced  confusion;  for  almost  on  top  of  his  hiding 
place  galloped  five  riders— a  carrot-headed  boy  in 
khaki  and  silk  shirt  blouse  and  scarlet  tie  leading  the 
way  on  a  pony,  followed  by  the  president  of  the  ship 
yards  and  a  red-faced  man  in  a  military  suit  mounted 
on  high-paced,  dock-tailed  cobs.  A  smallish  black- 
eyed  boy  and  a  very  little  girl  with  shaking  curls 
came  cantering  behind  on  Shetland  ponies.  Even  as 
he  dropped  from  the  clouds  of  his  dreams  to  an 
earth  that  he  wished  would  close  over  him,  the  young 


THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  21 

workman  recognized  the  group  at  a  glance.  The 
little  girl  was  the  only  child  of  the  ship  yards'  presi- 
dent, whom  the  boy  had  addressed  as  Admiral 
Westerly;  the  other  rider,  officer  of  the  State  Infan- 
try, of  whose  malodorous  life  not  an  operative  in 
the  yards  was  ignorant.  The  small,  black-eyed  boy 
on  the  Shetland  pony  was  evincing  symptoms  of 
snickering  wh-;n  the  president  spoke : 

"A  gentlcnan  doesn't  say  thrt  sort  of  thing, 
Hebden  !    Whsh " 

But  the  little  girl  was  not  paying  the  least  atten- 
tion to  anyone.  She  was  slipping  off  her  pony  with 
eyc3  intent  on  a  violet  bank,  when  the  military  man 
spoke. 

"Pretty  damp  for  little  feet  and  bare  legs — 
Westerly." 

"Louie,"  called  the  president,  "go  back  on  your 
pony  this  minute!     Ground's  damp  here,   and  tht 

sea  fog  coming  in "  and  he  had  flung  his  foot 

stirrup  free  to  dismount,  when  Tom  Ward  junior 
came  out  of  his  embarrassment  with  a  jump,  jerked 
off  his  cap  and,  extending  his  hand,  had  given  the 
little  girl  a  lift  back  to  her  saddle. 

"By  Jove — that  was  neat,"  said  the  military  man 
to  the  red-headed  youth,  whom  Ward  heard  quot- 
ing something  about  "a  Don  Wan  in  the   rustic." 

The  president  was  visibly  fingering  his  vest  pocket 
for  a  tip. 

"Go  on  with  the  children.  Colonel  Dillon,"  he 
was  saying,  "I  think  this  is  one  of  our  men." 


22 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


Ward  had  put  on  his  cap  and  turned  his  back  as 
the  colonel  rode  off  with  the  children. 

"I  saw  you  in  the  ship  yards  to-night,  didn't  I?" 
asked  the  admiral. 

Ward  felt  the  electric  thrill  go  from  his  spine  to 
I'.is  finger  tips.  The  president  had  brought  out  a 
handful  of  change  and  was  picking  out  two  quarters. 
Ward  turned. 

"Yes,  sir!" 

The  president  put  the  two  quarters  back  in  his 
pocket.  Ward  did  not  want  the  tip;  but  he  did  not 
know  whether  to  feel  grim  or  cynical  when  he  saw 
the  coins  slip  back.  The  president  was  rummaging 
his  trousers  pockets. 

"A  dime,  ill  bet,"  thought  Ward  grimly;  and  he 
wanted  to  laugh  at  this  drop  from  dream  clouds  to 
a  dime's  worth  of  mortification;  but  Admiral  West- 
erly did  not  proffer  more  coins.  He  sat  rummaging 
his  trousers  pocket  with  one  hand,  reining  his  horse 
in  with  the  other,  looking  Ward  over  with  a  search- 
ing glance  that  bored  into  the  boy's  marrow.  Again, 
that  electric  tingling  ran  from  the  woi  cer's  spine  to 
his  finger  tips.  At  that  moment,  so  far  from  being 
in  rose-hued  clouds,  he  felt  himself  all  hands,  all 
feet,  all  legs;  in  a  word,  a  huge  lumbering  gawk 
reddening  the  color  of  a  turkey's  wattle. 

"Which  's  your  department?"  asked  the  president 
curtly. 

"Second  furnace  man;  day  shift  now;  used  to  be 
night  boy — — " 


THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS 


23 


"Never  mind  'used-to-be'sl'  Do  you  want  to  get 
on — to  go  ahead?" 

Ward  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  didn't  know 
whether  to  expect  some  "be-good-and-you-will-bc- 
happy"  advice,  some  platitudes  about  working 
classes  saving  their  money,  or  a  round  call-down  for 
intruding  on  the  group  of  ri  icrs  to  help  the  little 
girl. 

"I  asked  you,"  repeated  Admiral  Westerly,  "do 
vou  want  to  rise?" 

Ward  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  did  not  recog- 
nize his  own  voice,  nor  pick  his  words. 

"More  than  hell  I  do,"  was  what  he  managed  to 
blunder  out. 

"Never  mind  the  nell;  and  remove  that  cap  of 
yours!     It  doesn't  grow  there,  does  it?" 

The  president  was  slowly  twisting  the  invisible 
ends  of  his  clone-cropped  mustache. 

"\Vhat  I  meant,  sir,"  blundered  young  Ward, 
"was  that  I'd  give  all  I  own " 

"Which  isn't  much,"  interjected  the  president. 

"Just  to  get  my  feet  on  the  lowest  rung  of  the 
ladder." 

"Hm,"  ruminated  the  president. 

"I  know  I  can  make  good  if  I  can  just  get  my 
feet  on  th-;  bot'.om  run     of  the  ladder " 

"Yes,  if  somebody  doesn't  stamp  on  your  fingers 
from  above,  or  pull  you  down  by  the  legs  below,  or 
upset  your  ladder  altogether,"  ruminated  the  man 
on  horseback,  putting  his  hand  back  in  his  trousers 
pocket  and  pulling  out  a  twenty  dollar  gold  piece. 


24 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Ward  made  no  reply,  because  there  didn't  seem 
any  to  make. 

"I  see  you  don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your 
feet;  or  your  hat." 

"What  is  he  driving  at?"  thought  the  boy;  but 
he  had  sense  enough  or  fright  enough  to  hold  his 
tongue. 

"Who  are  these  delegate  union  fellows  working 
up  trouble  among  the  riveters  and  platers?"  de- 
manded the  great  man. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Ward.  "I  have  never 
been  able  to  afford  to  join  the  firemen's  union,  but 
I  guess  I'll  have  to  at  twenty-one." 

"Not  a  member  yet?" 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Ward. 

"Can  you  find  out  for  me  if  these  agitators  are 
from  the  foreign  yards,  and  keep  your  mouth  shut 
about  it?" 

"I  think  so;  they  are  to  meet  secretly  in  the  fur- 
nace room  to-morrow — Sunday — when  the  cleaners 
are  supposed  to  be  at  won; " 

"Don't  think,"  emphasized  the  admiral.  "Will 
you,  or  will  you  not?" 

And  the  answer  came  from  Ward  like  a  stone 
from  a  catapult— "Will  I— Yes,  I  will!"  (Strength 
.  .  .  Will  ....  Purpose  .  .  .  Power — the  boy 
was  drunk  with  a  wine  the  great  man  did  not  guess.) 
The  president  took  the  gold  coin  from  his  palm 
and  handed  it  between  his  forefinger  and  thumb  to- 
ward the  grimy  faced  workman  in  oily  blue  over- 
alls. 


THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  25 

;'No,  sir,"  said  Ward,  "not  till  I've  ear.ed  my 
price.  ' 

"There  may  be  no  price " 

laddw-^""  ^"  ""^  ^'"  °"  ''"^  ''"'  '■""8  °^  ^'"= 

The  answer  of  the  president  of  the  ship  yards' 

company  was  a  dig  of  the  spurs  that  sent  his  horse 

on  the  gallop  after  the  other  riders.    Ward  stood 

rooted;  but  as  the  cob  went  hurling  into  the  woods 

the  president  turned  sidewise  and  glanced  back  at 

the  figure  of  the  young  workman.    Ward  looked  up 

just  at  the  moment  to  catch  the  glance.    He  felt  as 

It  an  arrow  had  ripped  into  his  inner  slumbering 

consciousness.     He  had  been  picked  out  from  the 

mob  of  other  men.     It  remained  for  him  to  make 

good.  , 


CHAPTER    II 

WARD  ADOPTS   A   NEW  CREED   OF   LIFE 

Right  here  and  now  it  would  be  very  simple  to 
preach  a  httle  sermon  on  the  mistake  Tom  Ward 
made  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  by  choosing 
Success  as  h,s  aim  instead  of  Service.     When  he 
thought  of  his  fellow  workers  as  "a  mob,"  he  was 
on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  from  which  Lucifer  and 
many  other  Sons  of  Morning  have  plunged  from 
a  heaven  of  dreams  to  the  pit  of  their  own  fierv 
discontent.    We  have  all  heard  the  allegory  of  the 
man  who  set  out  to  follow  the  mountain  stream 
from  US  sprmg  in  the  snows  down  to  the  sea,  and 
who  made  the  mistake  of  setting  out  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  tricklet.     The  trouble  with  that  pretty 
parable   .s  you   en  n't  always  follow  the  mountain 
stream   tricklmg   from   the   snows.      It  loses   itself 
under  quaking  moss  and  in  swamps.     It  dips  down 
under  a  glacier  and  takes  to  curving  round  preci- 
pices,  where  you  would  break  your  neck  if  you  fol 
lowed.     Bemg  good  is  something  n.ore  than  follow- 
mg  a  silver  thread  in  the  sunlight.     It  is  often  using 
good  judgment  to  find  the  thread  when  you  lose  ^t 
and  to  recognize  the  thread  when  you  find  it;  and' 
generally,  life  hurries  us  into  action  before  we  have 
26 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  27 

time  or  wisdom   to   talce  stock   of  our   own  mo- 

When  Ward  came  out  of  the  daze  where  the 
nders  ad  left  him  standing  i„  the  wood  eem 
ngly-I  suppose-he  walked  home.  In  rea  ity,  Z 
trod  on  the  vv.ngs  of  the  wind.  He  did  not  feci  the 
earth  beneath  his  feet.  All  fatigue  had  go  e  o 
o    h.s  hmbs  and  m  .ts  place  was  a  sort  of  living 

He'd      Tl    u'"""^  '"^'''"^  '"  «  "^^  glory 
He  felt  as  ,f  he  had  put  himself  in  touch  wlh  a 

aid  n"  '""?  -'T™""^  '"''"  ^'"^'h  dominated 
Syrobetng  '"""  ^'''  ''  ^°""^  -"""^'^ 
Alas  for  the  hopes!  They  were  like  a  powerful 
electnc  current  turned  into  a  broken  wire  ending 
.n  a  sputtenng  and  burning;  for,  as  he  emerged  frlm 
the  woods    there  stood  the  little  house  on 'he  edfc" 

wan  i„"th  7'  7^  ''""'^^  "^'="'  ""P^'"^^J  -d 
wan,  m  the  m.dst  of  an  unkempt  garden  with  a  fall- 

InH  ?  h-  °V''''"'"S  '^°''  «"d  '°o^^"ing  grip 
and  dashmg  hopes^  It  had  been  quite  a  hous'  lo, 
m  ts  day,  a  seaside  pleasure  place  for  some  pros! 
perous  merchant  m  days  gone  by  before  the  ship 
yards  bu,lt  up  a  Shanty  Town,  and  the  Shanty  Tow,' 

zirti  °" '''  "^  ""p-  Ward  look/d  it  r 

over  w,th  new  eyes.  There  was  an  old  colonia 
mansion  turned  mto  a  tenement.  The  porter',  lod^ 
was  now  a  Poli.h  lodging  house.  What  made  th 
d.fference  between  this  place  now  and  long  a^o 


28 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


The  souls  of  the  people  inside  the  houses;  and  with 
new  eyes  the  boy  noted  as  he  passed  into  the  yard 
the  top  hinge  of  the  gate  gone,  the  pig  weed  in  the 
vegetable  garden,  the  broken  slats  in  the  board  walk, 
a  rickety  board  in  the  house  steps. 

"Wha'  kep'  yo'  late?"  mumbled  a  thick  voice, 
sleepily,  from  a  wooden  rocker  on  the  veranda. 

Ward  had  always  noticed  how  his  father  dragged 
his  feet.  He  had  never  so  sharply  noticed  how 
the  words  dragged  in  the  same  inert  way. 

"I  walked!"  he  answered  barely  civilly,  an  un- 
speakable rage  suddenly  flaring  up  in  him. 

"Wha'  d'  y'  walk  for?  Why  didn't  y'  take  the 
car?  Funny  thing  if  other  men  can  ride  and  my  son 
has  to  walk " 

"You're  mighty  thoughtful  about  your  son,  all  of 
a  sudden,"  returned  the  boy  sullenly.  He  was  well 
aware  that  if  he  had  ridden  his  father  would  hav; 
demanded  why  he  had  not  walked.  The  man  had 
the  habit  of  looking  at  life  with  a  snarl.  Things 
went  wrong  with  him  because  he  always  went  wrong 
with  them.  Ward  was  now  looking  at  his  father 
with  new  eyes.  This  head  was  massive,  too,  but  it 
was  not  the  massiveness  of  strength.  Where  the 
president's  head  had  suggested  a  lion  in  action  this 
man's  gave  the  imnression  of  the  sodden  stupidity 
of  a  cross-grained  ox.  His  square  shoulders 
slouched.  His  great  hands  dangled  loose.  Here  was 
strength,  too,  but  it  wasn't  the  strength  of  the  fit. 
A  great  wave  of  revulsion  went  over  the  boy's  being. 

"How  is  mother?"  he  asked. 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  29 

"Oh,  she's  done  a  good  djy's  job,  this  time '  It's 
a  boy— this  time.  That  makes  two  boys  to  seven 
girls;  and  that's  'bout  what  girls  are  worth  in  earn- 
in'  wages,  tool  You're  gettin'  seventy.  Would 
take  three  and  a  half  girls  t'  earn  that.  Boy  brings 
in  money  from  time  he's  in  his  teens.     Girl  never 

brings  in  .nuch  and  is  a  burden  till " 

"Burden?"  The  boy  burst  out  in  a  hard  laugh 
that  the  wooden-headed  sire  did  not  in  the  least 
understand.  Though  he  had  not  earned  a  dollar 
honestly  or  dishonestly  in  ten  years,  Ward  senior 
was  smh  an  authority  on  earnings  and  savings  and 
economics  in  his  family's  affairs  and  Shanty  Town's 
affairs  and  ship  yard  affairs  as  never  before  spouted 
from  an  apple  barrel  in  a  grocery  store.  The  man 
rose  and  gazed  dully  after  the  boy.  The  boy  went 
to  his  own  room,  changed  his  clothes,  and  emerged 
dressed  as  if  to  go  out.  He  sat  down  to  the  supper 
table  without  a  word.  The  other  children  had  gone 
out.  Father  and  son  ate  alone.  Suddenly,  the 
father  noticed  something  and  threw  down  his  knite 
with  an  unpleasant  sneer. 

"What  y'  putt  your  white  shirt  on  for?" 
Ward  didn't  answer,  but  went  on  with  his  mea'. 
The  elder  man's  amused  look  hardened.  "Needn't 
think  a  boy  could  fool  him."  A  thin  girl  of  twelve 
or  thereabouts  toiled  over  the  stove.  She  was  hot, 
white,  ansmic,  and  she  shufided  her  feet  like  her 
father.  She  wore  the  deadly  pallor  of  an  invalided 
woman  and  was  listless  with  that  most  pathetic  of 
all  old  ages— the  ol^  age  of  the  young.     The  son 


30 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


finished  his  meal  and  sat  back.  Something  newly 
awakened  arose  in  blind,  furious,  ragmg  revolt 
against  his  surroundings.  There  was  the  twisted 
window-shade  that  ought  to  have  been  rolled.  There 
was  the  gate  with  the  broken  hinge  which  one  nai" 
would  have  righted.  Ihere  was  the  garden  path 
which  an  hour's  work  would  have  cleared  of  weeds. 
Young  Ward  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh  at  his 
dreams  or  at  what  he  saw.  Certain  it  was— one 
of  the  two  must  give  place  to  the  other— dreams  of 
success,  or  proofs  of  failure. 

"I  aut'd  y'  whad  y'  putt  y'  white  shirt  on  for?" 
"I  suppose."  answered  the  boy,  "if  a  hog  were 
taken  out  of  a  pig-sty  and  put  in  a  parlor  it  would 
still  be  a  hog." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  try  t'  fool  me  by  talkin'  some- 
thin'  else  I  You  mind  y'rself  and  be  careful  what 
kind  of  a  trollop  y'  go  trapezin'  round  streets  Satur- 
day night." 

Instead  of  being  angry  young  Ward  nearly 
luughed.  He  leaned  forward  with  his  elbow  on  the 
table  and  his  face  in  his  palm.  It  was  becoming 
comical.  If  Ward  senior  had  been  suspicious  be- 
fore, he  was  certain  now. 

"Mary,  you  bring  me  that  sugar  bowl,"  he 
roughly  ordered  the  little  girl. 

The  look  of  amusement  faded  to  hard  contempt 
on  the  son's  face.  He  folded  his  arms  over  the 
table  and  leaned  forward. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  countermanded  quietly.  "You 
leave  that  lump  sugar  where  it  is,  Maryl     We're 


I 


I 


A  NEW  CREED  01    LIFE  3, 

not  going  to  use  lump  jugar  till  the  bills  for  the 
new  baby  arc  paid." 

The  son  sat  up  suddenly  very  straight.  The 
father  threw  his  knife  and  fork  to  his  plate  open- 
mouthed.  I  he  revolt  h:,d  come  so  suddenly  his 
dull  head  could  not  take  it  in.  The  little  alarm 
clock  on  the  k.tchen  shelf  was  ticking  the  minutes 
off  so  furiously  that  .t  threatened  to  jump  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor. 

"p'j'  hear  me,  Mary?"  roared  the  man.     "Vou 

tn'hiJ  "".h  K^.'T""'."  "'-•  ^'"^  '=»■"■•"  hold  of  the 
table  w.th  both  hands  and  had  half  risen,  leaning 
forward  so,  open-mouthed.  Young  Ward  rose,  set 
nis  chair  in,  and  waited. 

fn2'  '"S.  ^'''''  r'^'"^  ^''"'  ^'="'  «''''«=  with 
fright.  There  am  t  any  more  sucjar,"  she  stam- 
mered  in  what  was  obviously  a  stared  lie 

Then,  I'll  git't,  myself " 

"No!"  That  was  all  the  boy  said;  but  he  ut- 
tered  it  so  firmly  the  father  paused.  Father  and  son 
glared  across  the  table.  The  boy's  ambition  rebelled 
against  sonship  to  unworth.  He  felt  a  sudden,  over- 
whelming  sense  of  shame  that  his   father  had  „o 

uTx'/  n,        '"''"  '"'''°°''  'f  ^°'  weakening. 
.       We  11  see;  we'll  see,"  he  muttered  thickly,  mak- 
mg  to  move.  ■' 

"Sfop   right  there   and   now!"   ordered   the   boy 
with  outstretched  arm.     "Father,  will  you  be  good 

plainly,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life?     No— I'm 
across  your  way !"    He  had  planted  himself  squarely 


32 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


in  front  of  his  father.  "Just  take  in  the  fact,  will 
you?— that  I  weight  one  hundred  and  sixty-five 
pounds;  and  it's  every  ounce  muscle.  You  weigh 
two  hundred  pounds;  and  it's  all  fat;  and  flabby  fat, 
too.  It  wouldn't  help  mother  if  we  got  into  a 
fight." 

The  man  had  raised  his  arm,  but  he  dropped  it. 
"Who's  talkin'  o'  fight?"  he  stormed  in  a  voice 
meant  for  the  sick  room. 

"Speak  low,  and  sit  down,"  answered  the  son. 
"I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

The  burly  face  dropped  angrily  behind  the  table 
again,  but,  for  the  life  of  him,  Tom  Ward  junior 
didn't  know  what  to  say.  He  took  hold  of  the 
back  of  his  chair.  What  was  there  to  say?  The 
eyes  that  had  sought  the  secret  of  success  now 
sought  the  secret  of  failure. 

"Well?"  demanded  the  man.  "Have  you  got 
into  some  mess  with  a  trollop?" 

The  funny  side  of  it  suddenly  overwhelmed 
Ward.  He  laughed  uproariously.  "Yes,  yes;  that's 
It,  dad!  It's  a  Miss  Fate,  you  may  have  seen  work- 
mg  in  the  offices  of  the  ship  yards'  company." 

"Fate— so  that's  the  huzzy!  Office  girl  all 
trick't  out  in  millin'ry  an'  airs,  I  s'pose!  If  she's 
in  trouble,  why  don't  you  marry  her?" 

The  promise  of  a  juicy  revelation  from  the  son 
had  eclipsed  all  thought  of  the  lump  sugar  and  set 
the  old  man  licking  his  chops,  eating  voraciously 
and  ferociously.  "Why  don't  you  marry  her?"  he 
repeated. 


I 


I 


A  NEW  CKEED  OF  LIFE  33 

Ward  junior  sat  down  in  his  chair  and  slowly 
lighted  a  cigarette.  "I'm  ^-.,,5  to  marry  her  if 
sh-j'll  have  me,"  he  said    vith  a  wry  ,,'rin,  "but  I 

don't  exactly  know  how  to  .'XDlain " 

'Well,  you  needn't  think  1  w^.u  fxplainin's  and 
explainin's  'bout  a  mess  any  son  o'  mine's  got  into 
with  a  flighty  huzzy,"  returned  the  father,  ob- 
viously on  the  point  of  bursting  with  curiosity. 
"While  you're  thinkin'  up  excuses  for  misdoin's,  I'd 
thank  somebody  t'help  me  mend  the  pump." 

"Somebody?"  said  Ward  junior  softly.  He  could 
not  remember  a  day  in  his  life  when  his  father  had 
not  wanted  "somebody"  to  help  him  to  do  some- 
thing. "Did  you  look  for  work,  to-day?"  he  asked 
gently.  A  sense  of  pity  for  the  inevitableness  of 
failure  had  touched  the  boy. 
^  "No,  I  didn't!  What'd  be  the  use?  I  ain't  goin' 
t'  work  like  a  convict  t'  have  foremen  swear  at  me 
like  a  dog  I  I  ain't  goin'  to  join  the  union:  and  you 
know,  well  as  I  do,  if  a  man  don't  join  he  ain't  got 
a  chance  at  the  ship  yards.  If  you  didn't  do  a  man's 
work  at  a  boy's  pay  you  couldn't  hold  your  job! 
Better  confess  your  own  misdoin's.  As  far  as  work's 
concerned— there's  nothin'  doin'!  I  tell  you— 
there's  nothin'  doin' !" 

Young  Ward  dropped  his  cigarette  in  the  dregs 
of  the  coffee  cup. 

"Nothing  doing?"  he  repeated.  A  great  wave 
of  bitterness  and  sadness  and  grimness  had  taken 
the  mirth  out  of  him.  "There  never  will  be  any- 
thing doing  for  a  family  that  lets  the  grass  grow 


34 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"Whad's  that'"    Ti,„ 
°^vious,y  going  off  J*;"-;-^^^ 

-oney  for  putting  yadT  to "'^.^   '°  ^^  «-'^ 
ship  yard  people  wan    I    f       !:'^^''-     ^  '"^«"  '^e 
that's  all r-    ^     ^=!"f  g°od  work  for  good  money; 
"All?" 

Tjiedder  man  grew  slowly  purple. 
'^'^|^^;^!?t^"^^^'^^eardasHepul^ 

worf?  mrtV'y-T '':,•:?  ^-'^  ^^^  ^'- «-  «■ 

The  beard  wagged  from  the  ^^''  "7  '^''  ^'S^'"'" 
lap  of  an  angfy  bull  '"^  """^  ^'''^  ^J*^  ^ew- 

retaHatl'al^enn?'''  '^/r''^  P-''^^'>'  ''^ve 
-a  perfor„,a„cf  L  which 'r  '  '°"^  '"  ^y^^"'" 
thicker  head  is  ccrta  „    „  '^""'  P'^'"  ^'^^^  '^e 

he  rose,  chest  flu  g  out  sh  '^^  °"'  '^^  ''^"^^•-  but 
'^'■^  arms.  It  ,Z7o,  \  "'  "''''"''  ^"'^  ^o'ded 
with  the  cau      of  fat  ,  1°""''  '^''  '""koning 

half  way.     When  he    nnl"  ^'  ""  ^'"^  ^^^^''^ng^ 

"I  don't  blame  vo"^        "  'T  ''"^  'J"''^^- 
There  is  no  e.  "e  for  a"f "  ?'"  '  '"^  =>"  ^^  -• 
o--  three  generatLn  "l/    aTu'  I  ^°^^ .^  -"^'^  ^wo 
rut— that's  it;  and  we'-/  ^^^  ^^  8°*  '"  a 

been    wallowi;g    in    th      m^d  '°  f '  °"^'     ^e've 
fe  the    mud— there's    something 


NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE 


I 


and  find  out^^hat    s  wTon:  1"     ''  '?  ^^"  ^'^'"g'' 

raponsibrlity   which    he    hn.l    h         !  ^"S* 

shoulder,  of  0,1,7.  '"''"S   °"    "' 

.« drop  r  if:  s  ";™  ■:  "'''-"'•  "">«• 

i'.;'=f,otrs:fr'--'" 

fessiI°l'o~''°K  r''°'''  ''°PP^'^  '■"  fhe  middle  o'  con- 

yrrXXillt-^^'^'' ---'--- -he  Shi; 

"Cut  that  outi"  interjected  the  boy.     "If  y,. 


36 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


were  not  so  jumping  keen  for  the  unclean,  father 
you  would  notice  I  was  making  fun  about  fate  and 
luck  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I'm  not  reproaching 
you  more  than  any  one  of  us.  I  only  say— we'd 
better  mend  our  ways  than  wallow  round  in  ditch 
water  pretending  it's  God's  fault.  God  has  noth- 
ing  to  do  with  our  poverty  and  failure.  Long  as 
we  are  stupid  as  hogs,  God  Himself  couldn't  make 
us  succeed  if  He  tried." 

It  dawned  through  the  father's  thick  skull  at  last 
He  was  !  eing  defied  in  his  own  house.  He  was 
being  taunted  with  failure  under  his  own  roof  His 
boy,  who  had  been  docile  as  the  sheep  dog  up  to 
that  night— docile  or  thoughtless— was  making  fun 
of  his  father,  defying  parental  authority,  talking 
lightly  of  some  misdoings  with  a  girl  in  the  office 
He  seemed  to  have  called  his  father— a  hog. 

"You— you,"  he  roured  thickly,  shuffling  round  to 
his  son's  side  of  the  table,  flourishing  his  arms  "I 
have  a  rnind  to— thrash  you !" 

"Don't  you  hit  mel"  said  the  son  speaking 
quickly;  "for  if  I  hit  you  back— it  will— it  will— 
hurt  you." 

Midway  of  his  rush  the  enraged  old  man  paused. 
His  face  slowly  purpled  till  the  veins  stood  out 
thickly  in  his  neck  and  forehead. 

"Poor  dad,"  said  the  son.  "I  guess  you  can't 
help  It!  It  s  the  way  you're  built.  You'd  pretty 
nearly  like  to  knock  me  down,  only  you  daren't  I 
guess  you'll  take  it  out  kicking  the  dog  and  raging 
at  mother  and  cuffing  the  kids  at  family  players 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  37 

S,v',^"'JT'r  T"^'  '  ^''PPy  '"""^'  dad!"     The 
boy^reached  for  his  hat  hanging  on  a  peg  of  the 

The    old   man   could    scarcely    articulate.     The 

thetw'-So""'"'  '''f  ""'^  ^P'^P'-^'^   ^-- 
the  throat       Go-go-go  from  this  house  forever  I 

Never  darken  the.e  doors  agam.    And-and-"  h 
added  magnammou.Iy,  "may  God  forgive  your  ^n 
toward  your  father."  ^ 

The  son  passed  out  to  the  cool  twilight  without 

1  r  ^/"^  '^"'  ^"^  ^P^""g  f°  his  face  a  new 
look  Manhood  Resolute.  He  had  left  h  s  youti 
behmd  m  the  ne'er-do-well  home.  On  his  squared 
shoulders  rested  a  new  Manhood 

forlr"^''  ^'.-  u'  *"'"  '^""'^'"8  "'^  ^!"^  I  bought 
for  my  j^other?'  he  asked  himself  out  in  the  garden 
Af  er  all,  such  disputes  were  so  useless.  His  fathT; 
hadhadnov.s,on.  Scales  were  on  his  eyes.  How 
could  he  see?  .\s  well  take  the  ho,,  out  of  thi 
stye  and  expect  it  to  change  in  a  parlor  us  the  n  an 
out  of  a  wallow  of  failure  and  expect  him  to  sue 
ceed  wuhout  a  change  in  his  on„  heart  I 

bark  I'nf  '^"  ''""■'■''  "^^^  "^^'"^  ^'  did  not  turn 
back  to  beg  an  unneeded  forgiveness  as,  perhaps 
he  stubborn  old  man  secretly  hoped.  $;  fhis  Ts 
he    beg„,nmg    of    the    high     .reams!  .  .         He 

h"/  h.!    "'"'"^'''  ■  •  •  B-^fter  have  done  w"h 
the   shiftless,    wrong-headed,    poverty-cursed    pis!- 

\Vh    'uA       .    .    '^"'^  P*'^  ^"'y  'f«  dead!  . 
\Vho  hadsa.d  that?  .  .  .  or  was  ,t  .      "Let  the 
dead  bury  their  dead?"  Nn  „,«        7  , 

.  .  .  ixo  matter  who  said 


38 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


it,  it  was  the  only  motto  for  a  true  beginning!  .  .  . 
He  could  do  better  without  the  home  than  it  could 
do  without  him;  but  then,  there  was  his  mother! 
.  .  .  That  gave  pause  to  the  reckless  resolve  .  .  . 
A  great  weight  seemed  suddenly  to  come  back  .  .  . 
A  chill  swept  over  h's  enthusiasm.  It  was  the  last 
protest  of  the  old  ties  against  the  new  creed.  Well, 
then,  if  he  had  to  be  hard,  he  must  be  hard;  that 
was  all ! 

Strength!  .  .  .  Will!  .  .  .  Purpose!  that  was 
it!  .  .  .  The  arms  of  love  round  one's  neck  must 
not  drag  down  like  a  mill-stone !  He  still  had  his 
week's  pay.  His  mother  should  have  that,  though 
it  would  be  sucked  down  in  the  quick-sands  of  six 
years'  debts.     He  did  not  weigh  the  right  or  the 

wrong  of  what  he  was  about  to  do He  had 

brushed  right  and  wrong  aside,  with  love  and  pity, 
when  he  took  the  new  creed  of  life. 

Far  beyond  the  moon-etched  fields  came  the  rush 
of  the  flowing  river  drawn  by  its  own  destiny  to 
boundless  seas.  From  farther  yet  came  the  muffled 
roar  of  the  city's  traffic,  of  multitudinous  voices,  of 
multitudinous  feet  marking  time  in  a  ceaseless 
narch.  Long  ago,  men  had  marched  to  battle- 
fields for  laurels.  Now,  battles  were  fought  on  the 
markets.  In  the  heat  of  traffic — man  pitted  against 
man — victories  were  won.  That  was  the  meanii  - 
of  the  muffled  roar.  It  was  a  hymn  ....  a  hymn, 
to  the  God  of  Traffic! 

Ho  knew  very  well,  as  he  stood  in  the  cool  of 
dewy  darluiess  opposite  his  mother's  window,  he 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE 


39 


knew  better  than  words  could  express  that  he  had 
not  chosen  the  easier  way.  The  wooden  rocker  and 
his  father's  creed  of  a  somewhat  benevolent,  easy- 
going Providence  were  the  path  of  least  resistance. 
Why  had  he  chosen  the  harder  way?  He  was  not 
sure  that  it  would  even  bring  him  happiness.  He 
was  not  thinking  of  happiness.  He  had  no  desire 
for  the  adulation  that  comes  licking  the  feet  of  Suc- 
cess; and  I  am  bound  to  add  that  the  boy  had  no 
mental  vision  of  steam  yachts,  and  race  horses,  and 
wines.  Why,  then,  was  he  casting  off  from  the  old 
life?  Why  have  the  bold  spirits  of  every  age  set 
sail  for  unknown  seas  that  sent  back  their  freightage 
for  the  race?  Why,  but  because  man  would  not  be 
man  unless  he  strove  for  the  Eternal  Better?  What 
he  would  do  with  the  Power,  when  he  won  it,  he  did 
not  know.  One  must  first  cross  the  unknown  seas. 
Somehow,  the  vision  of  that  other  man's  success, 
and  the  sting  of  his  own  family's  failure,  had  driven 
home  the  truth — one  must  go  up  and  on,  or  down 
and  out;  strive,  or  cease! 

The  dewy  darkness,  the  cold,  white  star-light,  the 
wandering,  hushed  voices  of  the  voiceless  night, 
spoke  to  him  in  their  own  language.  In  cutting 
away  from  a  handicapped  past  he  had  thrown  him- 
self as  bare  of  equipment  as  the  most  primitive 
man  into  the  arms  of  Nature,  man's  primordial 
mother;  and  the  dew  gathered  on  his  fevered  fore- 
head like  a  cooling  hand — a  hand  of  blessing. 

The  collie  dog  sniffed  affectionately  at  his  feet; 
and  through  the  open  window  he  could  hear  his 


40 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


father  storming  over  the  quarrel  to  the  invMid 
n-other.  Such  unctuous  phrases  as  "prayin'  for  the 
boy  s  good  and  "power  o'  prayer  for  the  prodi- 
gal, floated  out  on  the  night  air  like  the  humminr 
of  beetles.  Then,  the  little  girl  came  in  to  the 
mother  s  room  with  the  lamp,  and  the  father  went 
out  with  a  loud  banging  of  the  door  in  a  sort  of 
dumb  oath. 

It  was  the  boy's  chance.     With  a  touch  on  the 
wmdow  sill  he  leaped  noiselessly  through  the  win- 
dow    and  sank  on  his  knees  at  his  mother's  bed 
Ihe  httle  girl  who  had  lied  about  the  lump  sugar 
fled  to  guard  the  door.    The  mother  lay  spent  and 
wan      Her  hair  was  prematurely  white;  her  brow 
Imeless,   with    the   light   of   a    marble   purity;   but 
mouth   and   chin   were   abnormally   small   with    a 
tremor  about  the  lips,  like  a  child  on  the  verge  of 
tears.    He  had  told  himself  that  her  life  was  past- 
his  to  come;  therefore,  he  must  not  allow  her  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  resolution;  but  when  he 
leaned  over  the  closed  eyes  such  a  pain  gripped 
h.m  by  the  throat  that  he  could  not  speak.     Sud- 
denly,   he  comprehended   the   Gethsemane  of  such 
lives— the  weakness  that  brute  strength  could  crush 
and  trample,  as  the  ox  treads  field-flower  into  mire 
Great  God,  mother!"  he  laid  his  face  on  the 
pillow  beside  her,  "how— can  I  leave— you?" 

The  woman  opened  her  eyes— gray  eyes,  full  of 
a  hfe-long  wondering  at  pain.  She  put  out  her  hand. 
His  big  grasp  closed  like  steel  over  it. 

"What  happened  with  your  father,  Tom?" 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  4, 

.      ^h- ""thing.     He  isn't  specially  to  Man,.,  t     II' 
just  the  way  the  years  ha^c  buil    hil  -' 

i  u  made  uD  mv  m  n,I  f«      •.       •  •       .  °  '     "" 

the  way  wevT  done  alth"    """'?  '"  '^'''^h-water. 
home,  Ind  saw  th    same  oT/h""'     ''"^"'  '  """= 

mmm 

You've  stood  it  twenty  y?ars   and  it'       T'  '°"^"' 
in'     A,u)  ;.' "  ^'  ""^  ^^"^  ""'y  pulled  you 

rnry""H7r''''^^'--^''"a'wa;Vse:'o 

hThand.  ''■■"'  =•  ""'"^''^'^  -"  "^  bills  into 

;'What  are  you  going  to  do?"  she  aslced 

rise     T  f '"^  '°  '"""'^'  '"°"'"'     I  =""  going  to 
rise  I     I   am  gomg  to  conquer— conauer     . 
everything  that  stands  in  mv  wavT  T  ''"" 

bust,  mother!    Fd  rather  ZL      '^    >.      "  """'^  °' 
;han  go  on  wallop; -^^^"^   X^^^^^^^^ 

-  hell !     It  has  ki  Id'yo    -       Z  ,7    ?  ''"'  '^^ 

I'm  going  to  get  there  or' t     T  ?      ^  '"  ''"''  "' 

why!     I've  J    „    T        ''""''^  '^'  'P"''  °«  the 

H.-c  ,    ■     ^      .         ''''  S°^  to— succeed!" 

H.S  vo.ce  was  husky,  and  his  hand  trembled  over 


4» 


Tin;    NKVV    DAWN 


his  mother's.  She  had  closed  her  eyes.  He  knew 
that  she  was  praying.  A  stab  of  anguish  choked 
speech.  In  the  silence  there  was  a  raging  conflict 
between  his  resolution  and  the  oM  ties,  ties  so 
strong  that  they  seemed  knitted  into  the  fiber  of  his 
being.  If  she  had  not  been  lying  there  so  ill,  if 
she  had  been  a  different  type  of  woman — coarse 
and  self-satisfied  and  content  in  the  swine  life  of 
failure — he  could  have  gone  away  light  of  heart. 
But  there  was  the  father,  greasing  the  family's  way 
to  ruin  with  self-excuse — that  meant  failure!  And 
here  was  the  mother,  who  stood  for  the  purest 
goodness  he  had  ever  known;  but  it  was  goodness 
under  the  feet  of  greed,  loo  weak  to  carry  the  day 
against  the  odds  of  the  i:.ute  with  the  thick  neck — 
that,  too,  meant  failure !  Strength — strength — 
strength — that  was  the  way  to  Power!  Will  and 
purpose  must  not  flinch! 

"Tom !"  the  eyes  opened.  What  the  little  woman 
said  now  was  the  supremely  bravest  thing  she  had 
ever  done  in  her  life.  "It  doesn't  matter!  Don't 
think  of  me!  It  won't  last  long!  I'm  only  one  of 
an  army  of  women  who  don't  last  long.  Don't  stay 
dragged  down  by  your  love  for  me " 

"Tom !"  called  a  chattering  whisper  from  the 
doorway,  "do  go  way!  Father's  coming!  Don't 
have  a  scene!" 

Through  vision  blurred  he  saw  the  gray  eyes  look 
up  from  the  pillow  with  a  light  that  he  carried  with 
him  through  all  his  after-life.  Then,  he  was  out  in 
the  darkness,  with  a  pain  wrenching  at  his  throat, 


A  NEW  CREED  OF  LIFE  43 

There  Ul''  ""■?  t'=V''"^"'-8  »>-  'i^ht.    Some- 

ninrh  r         T^      u'  ^"'"'^  °'  ^'^'  '^'  '°"i<=  in- 
ning hard.     Then,  he   realised  that  he  had  torn 

away  from  the  home  at  a  run. 

"PoorShepl"     He  stroked  the  dog',  head.     It 

•Toor  Sh!'"  "vv"'""'^  '"  '*•'  P"'"'  °f  »'-  hand. 

loorShep!    We've  cut  and  run,  now,  sure !     It's 

a^ rocky        d  ahead,  and  you  go  back!     Bless  my 

log!     Go,  now,  go  home  1"  he  ordered 
But  the  collie  curled  at  his  feet 

bacU°a'r?i'  T'^^'f'     ''"^'  '"'"'^  ^''""''^'l  ««  with 
ba  kvvard  looks  and  pauses.     "I've  done  with  the 

past  .   .  .   I  ve  done  wth  pity!     If  I've  „„f  .„  , 
«in  ha  d  ,11  start  now,"  an'dL  huVed?s°tLrtht 
sent  the  dog  whming. 

.hY'V^-"""'  '  "■"''-''  '"'^  'he  twisted  window 
shade;  but  th.s,  too,  had  its  meaning 

Succe^sTl  ^'"^  ^'"^  '°"'  "''^  ^"   "'^^  hampered 

Tom  Vv"h  ''="^,!'"'^^"<=d  hir.  heart  to  Success! 

Tom  Ward  would  trample  all  things  that  lay  in 
the  way  of  h.s  masterful   march  to   Power!     He 
was  qu.te   sure  that  the  old  way-weakness   and 
goodness,   greed  and  hypocrisy-Ld  to   t       di  ch 
Wh.ther  the  new  way  led  he  did  not  know 

Far  ahead    the  ship  yards'  smokestacks  sent  up 
a  lund  glare   ,ke  a  sign  of  blood  and  fire;  the  sacri 
fice  of  the  World  of  Work  to  the  God  ^f  T raffi 
The  roar  of  the  c.ty,  ^he  beat  of  multitudinous  feet' 
the  throb  of  hammered  steel, 


•■'--»,    iiiu    WItK 


44 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


ceaseless  toil — grew  distincter  as  he  ran.  In  an- 
other half  mile  he  would  be  on  the  new  battle- 
field of  the  new  age — the  muTkct. 

Above  the  stars  shone  like  a  blue  field  seeded 
with  jewels.  The  night  was  drugged  with  the  sub- 
tle joy  of  orchard  blossoms.  But  the  young  man's 
feet  were  set  on  the  path  to  Power.  Weakness  of 
spirit  in  his  mother,  the  avid  greed  o.  flesh  in  his 
father — had  made  of  his  heart  a  thing  of  flint. 
Down  by  the  sea  he  remembered  that  he  had  not 
even  kept  street  car  fare  in  his  pocket. 


CHAPTER    III 

WHEKEm  TOM  W.HO-S  W,„rK  SH.RT  CONTINUES  TO 

PLAy    AN    INTERESTING    PART    IN    THE 

SCHEMES  OF  Miss  FATE 

human  emotions reffref     H„     •   l   ■  '  '""'^  o'  a" 

in^u!,     regret.    He  might  have  naralv^*,) 
h.s  buoyancy,  his  rebound,  his  leap  at  ^,7^1     ^ 
arguments  with  God's  scheme  of  thLQ^/""'' 
™^ht  have  added  to  his'Zrf,  h       '  a/'fe 

the  stuP  ,  ,   . ,  .  ,   .       of  Li^;  '"■■"  ""'y  '°  '"P  °ver 
he!el.r    nr  -""y  healthy.     Henceforward 

to  hold  „;  h  "'  "'"'"'"'  P"'"'"'^''  ^  ''^'^k  thought 

ean    so  d  d  h    'r  "T"-     "'■'  P"'^'^  continued  to 
leap,  so  did  his  thoughts;  and  he  never  ceased  run 

bT  the  s  :  T  ''T''  "  ''^'  P'-^  -  ^"wood"" 
by  the  sea  where  the  president  of  the  ship  yards 
had  found  him  planning  how  to  grasp  Success  Hi 
only  distinct  sensations  were  a  hardening  aga" 
regret  over  parting  from  his  mother  anda^d elirZ 
ot  abandon  to  a  great  current  of  Life  called  piie^ 
That  was  why  he  wandered  on  through  the  sUrUt 
4S 


46 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


woods  to  the  very  margin  of  the  sea.    The  tide  was 

coming  lapping  in.     Warships  and  ocean  vessels 

came  churning  up   through   the   night  mist  to   the 

glittering  lines  of  harbor  lights  not  far  from  the 

lurid  glare  of  the  ship  yard  smoke  stacks.     One 

great  vessel — he  took  it  to  be  the  wonderful  new 

dreadnought — sent  the  arc  of  a  searchlight  cutting 

the  night  in  a  sword  of  blue  fire.     Ward  saw  it 

shoot  out  in  the  dark  like  a  presence,  then  swing 

piercingly  to  right  and  left,  slowly,  in  a  sword  of 

fire  till  the  line  of  light  came  mystically  over  the 

glassy  sea  toward  himself.     Everything  seemed  to 

represent  the  current  of  a  great  invisible  power. 

Its  gradual  silent  swing  through  the  dark  had   a 

curious  effect  on  his  own  spirit — it  seemed  to  bathe 

him  in  the  new  life  toward  which  he  had  set  his 

face — if  it  crossed  his  feet  and  went  behind  him — 

"let  the  dead  bury  their  dead" — he  would  regard  it 

as  an  invisible  sword  between  him  and  his  past. 

It  touched  the  sea  i.    little  phosphorescent  gleams 

and  set  the  wave-wash  of  the  steamer  trail  atremble 

in  electric  fire.     It  lighted  up  a  multitude  of  idle 

craft  rocking  in  the  darkness.     Then,  suddenly,  he, 

too,  was  enveloped  in  the  mystic  fire.     It  had  swept 

far  behind  into  the  darkest  recesses  of  the  woods — 

a  sword  between  him  and  the  past;  an  Exclusion  of 

Purpose  to  cut  everything  off  but  his  one  aim — 

Success.     While  he  gazed  it  had  swept  over  the 

harbor  again,  lighting  up  a  myriad  of  unnoticed 

craft  rocking  Idly  to  the  tide. 


TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT        47 

Afterward  Ward  could  not  recall  how  he  had 
spent  the  rest  of  the  night.  He  knew  he  had  conned 
over  every  word  and  turn  of  expression  on  the  part 
of  the  admiral,  who  was  president  of  the  ship  yards 
He  remembered  about  the  cap  to  be  removed-  the 
square  up-held  shoulders,  as  though  the  center  of 
gravity  of  men  who  succeeded  rested  higher  in  the 
body  than  of  men  who  failed.  Unconsciously  he 
drew  himself  up.  It  was  as  if  from  the  man's  atti- 
tudes he  would  learn  the  secret  of  the  personality 
behind  the  physical  expression.  His  foot  was  reach- 
ing for  the  bottom  rung  of  the  ladder— he  must  not 
be  clumsy  footed  mentally. 

"Who  were  the  delegate  union  fellows  working 
up  trouble  among  the  iron  workers  ?"_that  was  the 
first  thing  to  be  learned.    Then,  "were  the  agitators 
from  the  foreign  ship  yards?"     Why  should  for- 
eign ship  yards  send  agitators  to  America?     Why 
was  this  contest  for  supremacy  on  the  sea  a  world 
contest?    The  question  pierced  the  dark  of  his  ig- 
norance hke  the  searchlight  from  the  ship— it  flashed 
mto  significance  a  thousand  trivial  things  which  he 
understood  now  for  the  first  time.    The  young  fel- 
low gave  a  low  laugh     "By  Jupiter,  if  I  get  that 
secret  I  ve  got  a  search  lantern  will  light  to  the 
top  of  the  ladder,  with  a  fire  <1.partment  extension 
on—    and  he  threw  himself  down  on  the  shore, 
burying  his  face  in  his  arms  as  if  to  shut  out  the 
very  starlight      The  ship  yards,  then,  were  in  a 
world  fight-for  what?     For  control  of  the  sea- 
of  the  carrying  trade  of  the  world.    What  a  fool  he 


48 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


had  been  not  to  observe  these  things  before.  Units 
of  capital  were  more  than  banks  for  workers'  pay 
checks— they  were  fighters,  too,  for  world  power. 
He  lay  on  the  shore  dreaming  of  great  ships  going 
up  and  down  the  harbors  of  the  world's  seas;  and, 
all  through  his  dreams,  his  purpose  to  master  Life 
flashed  a  revealing  light  like  the  search  arc  of  the 
great  dreadnought. 

When  he  entered  the  main  big  furnace  room  on 
Sunday  afternoon  he  could  hardly  believe  that  any 
human  being  could  have  been  so  blind  as  not  to 
realize  what  was  going  on  behind  these  doors  with 
the   big   sign    "Admittance   to   Employees   Only." 
Many  afternoons  when  he  had  been  cleaning  up  his 
own  furnace  the  labor  agitators  had  been  about 
with  big  handbills  printed  in  red.    They  had  been 
talking  in  Italian  and  Spanish  and  German  to  the 
foreign  workmen.    To-day  he  would  have  given  his 
right  arm  to  know  what  the  foreigners  gesticulating 
in  groups  were  saying  to  one  another.     A  voluble 
German  was  spitting  fire-cracker  speech  through  his 
beard  to  one  group.    He  also  recognized  a  Spaniard 
and  a  Russian  as  leaders  in  other  groups.    A  Scotch- 
man was  holding  forth  from  a  soap-box  in  words 
that  came  out  of  his  mouth  tight  and  hard  as  stones 
from  a  catapult.    Ward  linked  his  arm  in  the  elbow 
of  a  furnace  helper  a  few  years  older  than  himself 
and  drew  near  this  group.    The  talk  was  Greek  to 
the  boy.     It  was  of  "the  great  Armageddon— the 
final  day  of  reckoning  between  labor  and  capital, 


TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT        49 
slave   and  master.      I„   the   Great   General   Strike 

would  T;;;'  ^^"r  ""--'ity.  color,  and  ted 
would^ay  down  p.ck  and   shovel,  axe  and  ham- 

as  Jth"  Tou'tf  M^e';  "ST''  "l-'S  '^''-'y 
own  fatheJwho  Hlf:,^,''^,  IZ^tVl ''' 
to  to  1  ,0       ,,„  ,^^^^^^  ole  .,fe_ ref..„, 

doing.     He  was  wondering  whether  he  were  con 

tenjplating  a   „,asquerade  or  a   sleeping   Jdcano 

The  big  fellow  called  McGee  was  visibly  excTt  d' 

You  wa.t  and  see,"  he  admonished.    "We  do^t 

s^i^fo^'^tfseTorrrL^I^r"  "^      ^^'^ 

terS^wtS  ""'  '°"  ""^'^  °'-  ""'^  ^-  '^o?"  - 
"Bet  your  life,"  emphasized  McGee    "the  e=,r^h 
IS  the  Lord's  and  the  fullness  thereof-the  earth   s 
labor  s  the  day  we  unite  to  demand  it.     To-morrow 
.s  ours     Feudansm-we  have  seen.  Industrirm- 
it  IS  to-day      To-morrow-it's  labor's;  and  don't 
you  forget  It ;  and  get  right  in  the  procession  now- 
we  re  demanding  eight  hours  nowl     It  will  be  four 
hours  to-morrow;  and  three  hours  next-ill  we Ve 
down  to  a  two-hour  day  at  $4  an  hourl     Think 
capital  can  stand  that?     That  scale  of  wage    will 
transfer  all  capital  over  to  labor;  and  that's  our  a^m 
m  the  great  bloodless  revolution.     I  tel    you     i" 
syndicalism  is  the  thing!    Age  of  force  1^ 
naetl     W7«'-    •  ,   ^  °'^'^^  and  war  is 

pastl     Were  in  a  new  day  when  capital's  going 


50 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


to  be  out  of  a  job!  The  day  every  working  man 
on  earth  throws  down  his  tools  and  refuses  to  work 
for  wages  and  will  work  only  share  for  share — capi- 
tal has  to  capitulate  and  hand  over  everything  to 

"Whether  you've  earned  it  or  not?"  asked  Ward. 
McGee  punched  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets. 

"Say,  Ward,  don't  turn  on  that  josh !  Has  capital 
earned  all  it  owns?  Feudalism,  industrialism,  capi- 
talism! Those  old  fellows  have  had  their  day! 
Now  it's  oi  rs." 

"Isn't  t'  at  fellow  over  there  among  the  foreign 
riveters  Scotch  Calvy?"  asked  Ward  of  a  big  raw- 
boned  man  declaiming  with  the  light  of  a  fanatical 
belief  in  his  eyes — he  had  transferred  the  passionate 
Calvinism  of  his  Scotch  up-bringing  to  as  passionate 
and  relentless  a  syndicalism — as  the  only  salvation 
for  the  human  race.  "I  thought,"  said  Ward,  "that 
he  was  brought  over  by  the  company  for  special 
work?" 

McGee  smiled.  "That's  the  beauty  of  this  sys- 
tem," he  explained.  "We've  got  our  secret  agents 
everywhere.  That  is  the  joke.  The  company 
brings  him  in  to  teach  our  men  tricks  of  the  foreign 
yards.  The  railroads  give  him  graft  on  the  q.  t. 
to  stir  up  a  strike  and  bedevil  ocean  traffic;  and,  by 
hickory,  the  fellow  double  crosses  'em  both — comes 
over  as  a  delegate  for  the  world  union  of  all  labor 
for  the  big  General  Strike.  Why  don't  you  join  us? 
Do  you  more  good  th.m  all  the  books  you're  ever- 
lastingly studying  by  firnace  light  half  the  night! 


TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT         5, 

Listen— hear    him    pour    it    into    them    hot    and 
heavy  I    Can't  dodge  that  kind  of  dope!    Old  day  of 

lot  of  httle  kindergarten  labor  unions  is  past " 

"Fear?      What    do   we    fear?"    demanded    the 
Scotch  delegate  fiercely.     "It's  your  half-way-ups 
and  on-tops  who  tremble  at  the  thought  of  civiliza- 
tion toppling  down  I    We  are  down  I     We  are  the 
bottom  dregs  of  life!     We're   Atlas  holding  the 
weight  of  the  world  on  our  bowed  shoulders      We 
don't  need  to  fear.    We  can't  lose  anything;  and  we 
may  gain  everything.     He  that  loseth  his  life  shall 
save  It;  and  he  that  saveth  his  life  shall  lose  it!    In 
twenty  years  we  have  gained  hours  shortened  by 
half  and  wages  doubled.     In  twenty  more  years  we 
can  gain  the  whole  world  //  we  hold  together     We 
don't  need  to  fear  a  fall.     Let  the  present  system 
smash— smash  it !— I  say  I    If  you  are  sent  to  prison 
we  pay  you  a  salary  for  service  to  the  common  good 
—volunteer  for  it  like  men!     We  can  send  more 
men  to  prison  than  the  prison  can  feed!     We  can 
make  civilization  so  expensive  that  it  will  have  to 
hand  over  all  industry  to  us!     Just  stand  together 
to   a   man!      I   Won't   Works— they  call   us  I     Of 
course  we  are!    We  won't  work  till  the  earth  and 
the  fullness  thereof  is  handed  over  to  us.     Spain  is 
cursl     Why  does  the  king  tremble  on  his  throne? 
Because  we've  secretly  tunneled  under  his  old  rot- 
ten monarchy.     Portugal  is  ours!     Why  did  their 
manikin  kid  king  run  from  his  own  throne?     Ask 
the  men  who  threw  the  bomb!     There  were  more 
bombs  in  Portugal  than  ever  were  thrown!     Eng- 


52  THE    NEW    DAWN 

!n"FWlal7r  ^"" '  ^  ^^''y  ''°"  ""■''=  ^°""-  strike 
cessions?)  Germany  .s  coming  our  way  soon  as  we 
can  undermme  the  army  and  place  one'of  our  m"n 
■n  every  battalion.  The  day  U.  S.  workmen  l"  fc 
hands  across  the  seas  with  what  they  call  cheap 
European  labor-at  the  drop  of  a  hat-the  wor  d 

ours,  Work  stops  till  the  earth  is  handed  ovJr 
to  us  We  ve  a  stronger  weapon  than  shot  guns 
and  bombs  m  the  new  system.     Capital  will  nf" 

iTbo^^h;      'T"'  '.^'''"'^  -'^  fi-^  gun;  and 

abor  throws  down  the  gun "  the  Scotchman 

laughed  a  hard  „, irthless  laugh.  "Refuse  to  woX" 
he  shouted.  "Spod  tools!  Work  slowly!  Work  o 
you  w,ll  have  to  do  your  work  twice !  Make  employ" 
ment  expens, ye !  We're  not  fighting  for  this  or  that ! 
We  are  fightmg  to  transfer  all  power,  all  posses- 
ion from  capital  to  labor!  The  General  Strike  will 
makejhe    French    Revolution    look    like    child's 

"It's  like  this,"  continued  McGee  feverishly,  and, 
before  Ward  realised,  McGee  was  the  cen'W  o 
another  hstenmg  group.  Talk  was  going  on  i„  a 
dozen  languages.  Ward  wandered  from  group  to 
group  and  learned  more  of  the  inner  working^  of 
the  sh.p  yards  than  years  of  service  had  taught  him. 
He  heard  how  Admiral  Westerly  and  Colonel  Dil- 
Ion,  though  outwardly  friendly,  were  struggling 
agamst  each  other  for  a  control  of  stock  in  thf 
^.p  yards  trust.  Dillon  represented  railroads; 
Westerly  naval   mterests;   and  the   balance  of  the 


TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT        „ 

miral  k^nf  fi,  ^^"""a'e— boys  at  school.     The  aH 

that  sSs:  o t  trerSiVi'"^  r^^^^-  "^^ 

ship  yards  because  he  killed  !  '°  '"'^  ^""'^" 
them  Poles?  Thev  had  If """?'"' "P^-  ^ee 
and  that  fellow  gbbeH„VL\"  ^'■°'"  ^"'"'='•• 
-artia:  after  B^Zllotl'^'^  T  '1  '^°"^^- 
McGee  laughed  uproa  ious  I'  ^The  -'"°"-" 
yard,  there  ain't  a  railr^  f'^'  .  ,  ^'"  '  «  ship 
tory  in  Europe  o    AmeS  '^  '  '''"''  ^  '^' 

secret  agents     ThsVhTnT      -7  "'  ^'  ''^"^"'^  ""^ 
ism-,/-:  «,„,/^i2;'::':S  '^  ^  y^"'-  ^'^  fade  um-on. 

"and    weVe   go    "ur   J^,?'""'^ ''l""'^'' '^e  words, 

hicky,   we've  got  con^  .'^u°""'^   '''"''    ^'"d.    by 

J,    rvi,  vc  got  control  of  the  c.ir.V^i,k        i  ^ 

We  can  tap  any  wire  m  ru  ■        '.'^'^'^^hoard,  too! 
want."  '^        '  '"  ^^''■•'stendoin  for  news  we 

The  two  moved  careles^Iv  (r-r, 
McGee  giving  swif    sk     £  of  "afhTJ"  ^""P" 
from  Barcelona    from  R  /  leader— men 

sylvania  and  Wales    and  tTe''    T  T''  '"  P^"" 

Workersof  the  Wo;id"^„d   L       ""1  '^"^'^^^'^ 
young.  '^  ""-'d ,  and  they  were  all  amazingly 

Toward  six  o'clock  the  most  of  the  workmen  be- 


i 


54 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


gan  going  home.  The  furnace  men  had  set  the  fires 
going  for  the  night  shifts  who  would  come  at  mid- 
night. The  watchman  went  into  the  steel  plate  room, 
leaving  McGee  and  Ward  alone  in  the  furnace  cham- 
bers. Ward  was  leaning  thoughtfully  against  one 
of  the  brick  furnace  walls.  McGee  was  kicking  off 
his  overalls. 

"Why  don't  you  join?"  asked  McGee. 
Ward  thought  a  moment. 
"I  may,"  he  said. 

"Why  don't  you  join  now?"  emphasized  McGee. 
Ward  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
"I  haven't  a  darn  dime  left,"  he  laughed. 
McGee   scrutinized   him.      "Been   burning   day- 
light?   You  look  as  if  you  hadn't  slept  for  a  week. 
Aw!  Cut  it  all  out.  Ward!     Start  fresh!     Here's 
fifty  cents.    Send  in  your  name  to  some  of  the  boys 
to-night." 

Ward  took  the  coin  ai.d  looked  at  it  queerly  and 
thought  of  a  larger  coin  of  a  different  color  which 
he  had  refused  the  night  before. 

"Are  you  on  duty  to-night,  McGee?  Do  you 
mind  if  I  sleep  in  here?" 

For  answer  McGee  smote  him  on  the  back  and 
admonished  heartily  about  "cutting  it  out" ;  so  that 
later,  when  Ward  came  to  the  fullness  of  his  power, 
it  was  a  stand-by  for  the  newspapers  how  McGee, 
"the  rampant  red,"  had  once  loaned  Ward  fifty 
cents  to  join  the  unions. 

A  moment  later  Ward  was  alone  in  the  furnace 
room.      He   searched  his   pockets    frantically   for 


TOM  WARD'S  WHITE  SHIRT        5j 

paper  and  pencil.     Then  he  rummaged  the  pockets 
of   McGee's   discarded   smock  and   overalls.      He 
found  a  carpenter's  pencil  but  no  paper.     By  the 
light  of  the  lantern  he  leaned  over  and,  on  the  cuffs 
of  that  starched  shirt  which  had  opened  the  con- 
troversy with  his  father,  began  writing  the  names 
of  all  the  labor  delegates.    The  left  cuff  was  rapidly 
covered  with  enigmatical  initials  and  catch  words. 
He  could  not  write  on  the  right  cuff  with  his  left 
hand,  so  he  threw  open  his  vest  and  dotted  down 
more  catch  words  and  names  on  the  starched  shirt 
front.    Then  he  recalled  that  he  had  to  sleep  in  the 
furnace  room  that  night.    He  surveyed  the  tell-tale 
cuff  and  the  betraying  shirt-front.     Reaching  over, 
he  picked  up  McGee's  blue  smock  and  put  it  on 
and  buttoned  it  tightly  to  the  chin.     Then  he  left 
the  furnace  room  and,  with  the  fifty  cents  loaned 
by  the  rising  young  labor  leader,  bought  the  first 
food  he  had  tasted  since  leaving  the  home  roof. 
When  McGee  returned  with  the  night  shift  at  eleven 
he   found  young  Ward  sound   asleep   on   a   bencii 
beside   the    furnace.      He   looked    for   the   smock; 
then  recognized  it  on  Ward  and  for  a  moment  con- 
templated asking   for  it;  but  the  boy  was  plainly 
in  a  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion.     McGee  smiled.    He 
thought  he  had  made  a  convert.     Had  the  sleeve 
of  the  smock  fallen  back  from  the  white  cuff  Tom 
Ward's  white  shirt  might  have  played  a  different 
role  in  the  little  drama  of  Miss  Fate. 


CHAPTER   IV 

WHEREIN  TOM  WARD  GOES  ON  THE  FIRST  RUNGS  OF 
THE   LADDER 

The  heat  of  the  furnaces  ^oing  full  blast  wakened 
Ward  soon  after  midnight.  He  sat  up  rubbing  hi, 
eyes  and  from  force  of  habit  was  about  to  pull  off 
smock  and  coat  when  he  saw  McGee's  figure  stripped 
to  the  waist  silhouetted  against  the  red  glare  of  an 
open  furnace  door  raking  live  coals  back  and  for- 

T-""/;^  !.       '"■°"^'''  ^"""^  memory.     He  slid  be- 
hind McGee  and  went  out  into  the  night.     There 
were  stili  some  twenty  cents  left  of  the  fifty  loaned 
by  the  young  labor  leader  to  join  the  Workers  of 
the  World.    Ward  knew  that  the  admiral  lived  some 
twenty  miles  out  from  the  ship  yards  on  what  were 
known   as   the  Sea    Cliffs.      No   suburban   express 
would   run   thert   before   eight   next   morning   and 
Ward  was  too  wise  to  '  ^  seen  going  to  the  head 
offices  out  at  the  yards.     He  decided  to  see  the 
head  of  the  company  out  at  his  house.    Tram  cars 
carried  him  five  miles  and,  where  the  street  railway 
seemed  to  end  in  the  dark,  he  could  see  through  the 
woods  a  light  in  the  room  of  his  old  home  where 
his  mother  lay  ill.     Just  for  the  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond a  longing  came  over  him  to  go  and  look  in  at 
56 


THE  FIRST  RUNGS  OF  THE  LADDER  57 

onft"tl'  ''"'^''*  dreadnought  still  lay  far  out 

of    h      ute7  "'•  "''•'^"  '''^  "^°'^'"«  '"-flight 
ot  the  turret  came  swinging  through  the  dark  of 

the  woods   he  recalled  how  that  blue  sword  of  fi^e 

wa    to  cut  h,m  off  frorn  all  the  Past.    Strength 

W.    .     .  Purpose!    There  must  be  no  side-steppin.^ 

of  W.ll,  no  wabbling  of  flabby  Purpose!     ''    et    Je 

terpreted  that  verse  as  "the  dead  in  sin  "     V-„ 
Ward  now  had  another  interpretatr' Why'dX^ 
the  B,b.e  speak  plainer?-he  used  to  wonder     Now 

o    Gabr'ier        '"."""'  '■'  ''  'P°'"=  "''h  the  trump 

stln^  n   i  """  "'^°  '""'=  '^"'^  '^°"'d  "°t  under 
stand  till  they  came  to  life. 

Turning,  he  loped  along  the  shore  path  like  a 
runner   on    a    race   track.      The   searchlight   kept 

bVhr  1      A'    ,"""^  "^''  '"'^'  ^^"^  the  arc  of 
.ght  struck  back  seaward,  he  could  see  the  Cliffs 
loom  agamst  the  sky. 

the^'nnr^'  "'?  J"  the  morning  when  Ward  came  to 
the  porter  s  lodge  of  park-like  grounds,  where  a 
passmg  aborer  had  told  him  the  admiral  lived 
Stone  p,llars  marked  the  entrance.  He  was  about 
to  go  up  the  driveway  when  a  man  came  out  of  the 
mtle  stone  house  and  demanded  what  he  wanted 
;  """was  dressed  in  dark  ma.oon  with  a  peak 
cap  and  black  leather  leggings.  It  was  not  what  he 
»^Veri  hut  the  manner  of  the  asking  that  stung  the 


58 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


"I  have  come  with  a  special  message  for  the 
president  of  the  ship  yards,"  he  answered,  not  for- 
getting to  remove  his  cap. 

The  fellow  eyed  him  quizzically.  "What  mes- 
sage?" he  asked. 

Ward  felt  the  steeled  muscles  of  his  forearm 
twitch.  He  looked  the  man  straight  back  in  the 
two  eyes  without  flicking  an  eyelash. 

"Come  now,  no  nonsense;  you  say  what  you  want 
or  get  out  of  here,"  added  the  man  insolently. 

"You'd  better  go  in  and  telephone  up  to  the 
house  that  I'm  here,"  warned  Ward. 

"You  say  what  you  want  or  get  out,"  said  the 
man  advancing  threateningly. 

"I've  said  what  1  want.  I  have  come  with  a 
special  message  for  the  president  of  the  ship  yards," 
answered  the  boy  hotly.  He  was  wondering  if  alt 
life  would  be  like  this — obstructionists  and  block- 
heads at  every  gateway  up. 

"You  don't  come  that  over  me,"  answered  the 
man.  "Cranks,  beggars,  and  peddlers  not  allowed 
on  these  grounds!  If  you  had  any  message  you 
could  have  telephoned  it  up!  You  say  what  the 
message  is  or  git  off  the  place — d'y'  hear  me?" 
ordered  the  man  coming  forward. 

Tofri  Ward  had  had  only  one  meal  in  thirty- 
seven  hours.  Also  he  had  slept  less  than  six  hours 
in  two  nights.  Before  the  man  in  livery  knew  what 
had  happened  a  ringing  swat  from  the  palm  of  a 
great  hand  that  seemed  to  swing  on  an  arm  like 
a  steel  derrick  took  him  over  the  head,  and  a  fist 


THE  FIRST  RUNGS  OF  THE  LADDF R   59 

that  hit  like  a  hammer  came  with  unforcwarned  im- 
pact under  the  chin;  and  the  maroon  livery  tilted 

back  on  a  parabolic  curve  that  1/    che  driveway 

"You  sawdust  monkey,"  Ward  was  gritting 
through  his  teeth.  "I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but 
you  get  out  of  my  way!  If  I'd  give  a  message 
meant  for  the  president  to  such  a   fool   flunky  as 

you   I'd  be  a  fakir  o«  the  first  bat "   and  he 

straightened  up  to  find  himself  face  to  face  with 
the  admiral,  leading  a  Shetland  pony  in  a  basket 
cart  down  the  driveway.  In  the  pony  cart  sat  the 
little  girl  with  the  curls— behind  cantered  the  two 
boys  Ward  had  seen  in  the  woods  that  Saturday 
night.  The  little  girl  was  bursting  with  suppressed 
laughter.  The  two  boys  were  openly  snickering. 
The  admiral  smiled. 

"Seems  to  me,  Buskins,  you  got  the  worst  of  that 
argument,"  he  was  saying.  "Here,  Hebden,"  to 
the  red-haired  boy  with  the  red  tie— Ward  noticed 
he  was  dressed  in  spotless  white  riding  breeches; 
the  other  boy  wore  flannel  shirt  and  khaki  trousers 
— "Here,  Hebden,  I'll  take  your  horse  back  to  the 
stable!  You  drive  with  Louie  in  the  pony  cart; 
and  don't  run  him  down  hill,  you  know!  Go  care- 
fully!" 

^^  "Oh,  Uncle  Wes "  grumbled  the  older  boy, 

"and  I  wanted  to  try  my  own  horse  this  morning." 

"Let  me,  Admiral  Westerly,"  exclaimed  the  other 
youth;  and  he  was  in  the  pony  cart  with  his  own 
horse  in  tow  as  he  spoke.  The  three  children 
trotted  on  down  the  driveway.     The  liveried  man 


6o 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


had  withdrawn  to  the  gateway  lodge.   The  admiral 
stood,  r.^^^^^^^^ 

out'tf  i'"^''l^  7'^'':'''^'  "''^'"  g^»  'hat  trin^med 
out  of  hitn  m  the  foreign  schools." 

tio^  '"''''^  ""  *"'  "P  ^"d  «°°d  «  atten- 

The  admiral  led  the  way  slowly  a  pace  or  two 

eJm  in  front  of  an  old-fashioned  red  brick  man 
sion  house.  He  seated  himself  thoughtfully  Ms" 
mind  seemed  still  with  the  children-fomewLt " 
fraught  the  boy  thought.  Nothing  was  saTd  for  a 
moment  or  two  Ward  stood  waiting,  won/e"  n' 
.f  these  beautiful  grounds   and  the  old  weH-S 

hom.    ffV'^^"'^  g'-andeur  where  his  own  old 

-^s  the"  '  ;""'.  T'''  '''•'^  ''°'^"  from  labor 
-as  the  speakers  of  the  Sunday  afternoon  meeting 
had  declared;  or  because  the  soul  inside  tre  man 
of   he  mansion  house  had  some  advantage  over^Se 

rd^:ikt7retr^:^°-^°^^^^-^^--'" 

trouble  are  from  the  foreign  ship  yards?    Y  s   s^r 

i  H  "'■  7t  '°"''  °^  '^''^  =»-  P^id  by  the  r  i : 

roads     and  he  recited  as  nearly  as  he  could  all  he 

it"'^  the  afternoon  before.  ^' 

Who  told  you  about  the  railroads  ?" 

McGee,"  answered  Ward. 


THE  FIRST  RUNGS  OF  THE  LADDER  6, 

Z;.X"."fel." '"''"'■■  ■■''>'«"'•"'>« 

Ward  made  no  answer.     He  felt  sq  ,f  >,•       l  i 
future  life  depended  on  no  false  Love Vow''^  "'°^^ 

"Yes,  sir." 
hrs'hinl''^'"'"'"^'"^'''"-'  Westerly  held  out 
Ward  went  blank;  then  red. 

I  haven't  them      That  i<!     T  i,,       .   T 
sir."  ^^  haven't  them,  yet, 

"I  thought  you  said  you  had " 

^^  Ward  could  see  the  suspicion  on  the  president's 

l.Ve?m/cl"t::et!:!!:r^  "  ''  P^''^  "^^-^  I  de- 

;;You  act  like  it!"  cut  in  the  president. 
But— but stumbled  the  bov    "thp,- 

af  aid  Id  forget  them  queer  foreign  names-^" 
Out  wth  ,t,"  demanded  the  president    "wT 
d'dyoudo?    Hide  them  in  your' ap."  ^''" 


$: 


62 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"No,  sir,"  floundered  Tom  Ward  in  an  agony 
of  awkwardness,  "I  have  them  writ  all  over  my 
shirt,"  and  he  threw  open  his  smock  and  displayed 
that  unfortunate  starch  shirt  which  had  played  such 
a  freakish  part  with  Miss  Fate  from  the  first. 

The  president  didn't  smile.  In  fact,  he  didn't 
believe.  His  eyes  bored  into  Ward  like  a  gimlet. 
Suddenly  he  seized  the  boy  by  the  right  wrist  and, 
in  a  sudden  twist,  brought  Ward  almost  to  the 
knees  with  a  forward  jerk.  The  jerk  brought  the 
cuff  of  the  white  shirt  down  out  of  the  blue  smock— 
It  was  literally  peppered,  scrawled,  charcoaled  back 
and  forward  in  big  sprawli-  ■  hieroglyphics  written 
m  a  dull  carpenter  pencil.  The  president  put  his 
eye-glasses  up  and  carefully  scrutinized  the  cuff. 
Then  he  looked  up  at  Ward.  The  boy  was  trem- 
bling. The  eyes  bored  in  and  out  of  his  soul,  of  his 
hopes,  of  his  ambitions,  gimlet-wise. 

"Where  did  you  sleep  last  night?     Has  anyone 
seen  these?" 

"No,  sir,  no  one;  I  slept  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
furnace  room  and   took  Sam   McGee's  smock  to 

cover  it " 

"Where  did  you  sleep  the  night  before?" 
"In  the  woods." 
"You  have  told  no  one  of  this." 
"No,  sir." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  home?" 
"I  ran  away  from  home  Saturday  night  after  I 
seen  you,  sir." 
"Why?" 


THE  FIRST  i;UNGS  OF  THE  LADDER  63 

"Because  the  spirit  inside  our  home  is  no  good, 
sir  I     1  want  to  rise " 

The  president  didn't  speak  for  a  moment  but 
he  relaxed  h,s  hard  grip  so  Ward  could  stand  erect 
again. 

"You  want  to  rise ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  that's  all  the  pay  I  want!  I  want  a 
chance  to  nse  I  If  I  don't  make  good  you  can  throw 
me  out  to  the  dogs-all  I  want  is  a  chance  to  get 
my  feet  on  the  bottom  rung  of  the  laddc^to 
rise " 

"It's  a  long  climb,"  said  the  admiral.     He  had 
'eaned  back  against  the  rail  of  the  seat  and  was 
shaJmg  his  eyes  with  his  hand.     "It's  a  long  climb 
my  boy  I  ' 

"I  know,  sir,  it  is  long  and  hard;  but  there's  a 
top  to  It;  and  it's  just  as  long  the  other  way  down- 
ana  there  s  no  bottom-it's  hell  there-I  bin  there  " 
There  will  be  cruel  feet  trample  from  above 
on  the  hands  as  you  climb " 

"Won't  be  no  worse,  sir,  than  the  kicks  I'd  get 
at  the  bottom."  ^ 

Ward  saw  the  admiral  looking  at  him  through 
the  fingers  of  the  hand  shading  the  eyes.  The  face 
wore  the  same  troubled  expression  as  when  his 
glance  had  followed  the  receding  children. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  for  you?"  asked 
Westerly  finally.  "Remember,  we  can  never  ply 
a  dollar  more  than  a  man  earns  for  us  and  is  worth 
to  us.    if  we  pay  him  one,  he  must  earn  us  two.    If 


64 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


you  ask  high  pay  remember  you'll  have  to  do  harder 

work  to  pay  for  it " 

"I  ain't  thinking  of  pay,  Admiral!  If  I  can't 
make  myself  so  you'll  want  to  pay  me  high  you 
can  tnrow  me  out!  I  want  to  be  taken  from  the 
furnace  room  and  ts  be  put  in  the  marine  engineer- 
mg  department " 

"But,  good  Lord,  boy,  you've  had  no  train- 
ing  " 

"That's  just  it,  sir;  I  want  permission  to  take 
lectures  two  hours  a  day  at  the  technical  school." 

The  admiral  rose  from  the  seat  and  stood  draw- 
ing the  riding  whip  through  the  palm  of  his  left 
hand.  All  suspicion  had  gone  from  his  face.  There 
was  a  brightness  in  his  eyes— beyond  that  Ward 
could  read  nothing. 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  is  a  kindness  or  not," 
he  reflected,  "but  you've  demanded  your  price  and 
you  shall  have  itl     Go  up  to  the  house  and  tell  the 
butler  to  show  you  to  the  library  and  give  you  a 
piece  of  paper!    Write  down  all  the  names  as  dis 
tinctly  as  you  can  and  lay  them  face  down  on  the 
big  red  table!     You  will  go  and  hunt  up  a  respec- 
table room  for  yourself!     Learn  to  keep  yourself 
to  yourself !    Then  buy  yourself  some  decent  clothes. 
If  the  spirit  mside  your  home  is  no  good  you  were 
right  to  leave  it;  but  keep  yourself  to  yourself  and 
your  plans  to  yourself!    Remember  that!    Put  that 
in  your  hat  I    You  will  absent  yourself  from  the  ship 
yards  for  a  week.    Then  report  at  the  engineering 
department.     I'll  speak  to  the  head  of  the  tech- 


THE  FIRST  RUNGS  OF  THE  LADDER  65 

sjr  ^"'"  ''^'^^'  *"«  boy.  hardly  able  to 

n'^r1\i:7ylfZr^'  ''^-^'^   hundred  a 

throw  you  to  trdog     '°2/tha""^''^  T"^'" 
on  the  staff."  ^       "  *''^"  ^"y  °ther  man 

woIrntrs,zte"v;  "r "  °"^  ^"^  '•^ 

diVectionofthe   Lid*     if  ''*'"'"'  ^^"^  off  in  the 
opera.  ^'''^''"  ''"'"™"8  the  air  from  some 


im 


CHAPTER    V 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  AND  A  DOUBLE  SHUFFLE  AND  THE 
PRICE  OF   POWER 

It  was  never  necessary  for  the  admiral  "to  cru- 
cify" Tom  Ward  or  "to  throw  him  to  the  dogs" 
as  he  had  threatened;  and  neither  did  young  Ward 
ever  crucify  his  opportunities  by  swerving  from  his 
purpose.     The  course  in  the  technical  school   he 
mastered  with  ease,  because  he  never  heard  a  lec- 
ture without  thinking  how  to  apply  it  in  his  daily 
life.     To  the  room  he  had  engaged  that  morning 
his  chief  sent  him  off  to  buy  clothes  and  rent  an 
apartment  he  had  now  added  a  second  with  a  bath- 
room between.     The  second  room  he  fitted  up  as 
a  laboratory  where  he  tried  out  every  experiment 
of  the  class-room.     He  had  continued  his  member- 
ship with  the  Workers  of  the  World  as  well;  and, 
as  he  grew  older,  encouraged  the   foreign  leaders 
to  round  up  in  his  rooms  for  beer  and  cheese  after 
official  meetings,  but  he  never  took  any  leading  part 
in  their  deliberations  himself;  and  of  the  workers 
McGee  was,  perhaps,  the  only  one  who  suspected 
Ward  of  having  other  interests  than  the  consumma- 
tion of  the  Great  Social  Revolution.     Sometimes 
Ward  grew  restive  if  the  talkers  stayed  too  long, 
66 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  j, 

Spanish-it  was  on  .  ttl  ■T'"''^  ""''''"'^  '" 
proof a^orSn"  wtZtTT  V°  ''""^*- 
some  information  Tn  FrJnchlouT'T'^'"'''^ 
that  there  were  nickel  1;~^°^^  ""=  °^^^^  t^o 
as  well  as  in  re^thCir; '"''"?  ^^"^'^^• 
of  war  ships  could  never  be  n'.'r*'''  ''"''''^'"^ 
the  CaledoSia  mines  on  ;  Se  no'  H  ""^  '■" 
to  a  huge  fellow  of  ,V.         '^^^Oee,  now  developed 

dropped.  ^    '  °""  his  jaw 

"What's  the  matter?"  askeH  W,.j 
bottle  of  beer  '''  ""^ork-ng  a 


"You 


may  use   'em,   and 


string 


68 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


'em,  and  ferret  out  their  plans;  but  I'm  damned  if 
you'll  use  me,"  he  glowered. 

Ward  poured  out  the  beer  and  set  down  the 
bottle.  He,  too,  had  filled  out  to  a  robust  manhood 
and  stood  as  powerful  as  McGee. 

"Keep  your  shirt  on,  McGee,"  he  said,  "and, 
when  you  cool  down,  explain  yourself." 

"Explain?"  McGee  snapped  his  fingers  again. 
"I  guess  Judas  didn't  explain  when  he  sold  Christ," 
and  he  bolted  from  the  room  with  a  loud  banging 
of  the  door. 

Ward's  glance  went  round  the  group  of  specta- 
tors in  a  flash.  The  German  socialist  had  set  down 
his  schooner  of  beer. 

"Poor  poy,"  he  said,  "his  sister  have  gone  bad; 
and  he  iss  beside  himself." 


All  the  men  looked  sorry  for  McGee  and  the  talk 
went  on  about  the  armor  plating.  So  the  years 
slipped  past  so  fast  that  Ward  never  knew  they 
were  going — all  he  knew  was  that  he  was  climbing 
as  fast  as  they  passed.  Did  he  pause  at  this  period 
to  help  half-way-ups;  to  hoist  derelicts;  to  give  a 
lift  to  other  men's  burdens?  Candor  compels  us 
to  set  down  that  he  did  not.  His  own  family  he 
sent  West  with  his  first  year's  earnings  and  placed 
on  a  large  prairie  farm;  keeping  the  title  to  the 
farm  in  his  own  name.  On  condition  they  stayed 
there  they  could  have  the  use  of  it  always,  he  said. 
Once,  when  Ward  had  received  a  promotion  to  the 
position  of  first  engineer  at  a  salary  of  $5,000  a 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS 


69 


year,  duly  chronicled  by  the  press,  which  had  picked 
him  out  as  a  rising  man,  his  father  somehow  secured 
money  enough  to  come  East.  When  young  Ward 
came  home  one  night  he  found  the  old  man  sitting 
in  the  apartments,  and  the  hall  boys  wore  a  wry 
smile. 

"Why,  Tom,  my  boy,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  y'." 

"I'm  glad  you  are  glad  to  see  me,  father  I     It's 

the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard  you  say  a  civil  word 

to  a  child  of  yours,"  retorted  the  son,  not  sitting 

down. 

If  the  old  man  had  been  a  saint  undergoing  mar- 
tyrdom for  glory  he  could  not  have  looked  more 
injured. 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  "I'm  your  father  1  If  any- 
body has  a  right  to  share  your  good  fortune,  surely 
it's  your  own  father." 

Ward  saw  what  was  coming  and  did  not  leave 
the  bars  down. 

"Right,"  he  repeated  dryly.  "You  ,ire  one  of 
the  men  who  claim  all  the  duties  of  .iJldrcn  without 
paying  any  of  the  dues  of  a  father.  You  c?me  here 
to  try  to  live  with  me " 

The  old  man  got  purple  with  rage  but  he  had 
ensconced  himself  solidly  in  the  most  comfortable 
chair  of  the  room. 

"I'm  needing  a  little  medical  attention,"  he  whim- 
pered.   "Have  y'  any  speerits  about?" 

"There  are  doctors  in  the  West,"  retorted  Ward 
curtly;  "and  the  kind  of  spirits  I  am  going  to  give 


70 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


you  we'll  buy  right  down  at  the  wicket  of  the  Union 


station- 


He  was  unlatching  the  Yale  lock  of  the  apart- 
ment door. 

"You're  not  agoin'  to  turn  y'r  own  father  out?" 
cried  the  old  man  in  fright. 

"No — I'm  not;  though  I  remember  not  so  long 
ago  my  father  turned  me  out,  though  I  had  supplied 
every  bite  he  had  eaten  for  seven  years.  I  am  not 
going  to  turn  you  out!  I  am  going  to  take  you  out; 
and  if  you  were  any  other  man  but  my  own  father 
I'd  have  the  porter  up  to  kick  you  out,  but  I  have 
some  respect  for  myself  if  I  haven't  any  for  you! 
We'll  have  our  supper  at  the  station.  I  am  going 
to  buy  your  ticket  and  give  you  a  hundred  dollars 
and  put  you  on  the  train !  Then  I'll  send  my  sisters 
fifty  a  month  as  long  as  they  live;  but,  if  anyone 
of  you  ever  again  crosses  the  Mississippi  to  come 

East  I'll  cut  that  allowance  off.     Come "  he 

flung  open  the  door. 

The  old  man  had  grown  livid.  His  lips  were 
trembling.  He  grasped  the  arms  of  the  chair  fran- 
tically, as  if  to  defy  force.  Ward  rung  the  bell  for 
two  porters. 

"Call  a  taxicab  and  bring  along  the  bags,"  he 
ordered.  The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair  and 
followed  like  a  whipped  dog.  The  father  whim- 
pered all  the  way  to  the  station.  The  son  refused 
to  relent.  He  had  seen  those  whimpers  alternated 
with  the  braggadocio  of  the  bully  delude  his  mother 
and  drag  his  family  down  to  the  ditch.    At  the  sta- 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  71 

tion  he  gave  his  father  a  whisky  which  loosened  the 
old  man's  lachrymose  self-pity  and  threatened  em- 
barrassment. Ward  then  handed  the  old  man  over 
to  two  red  caps  to  be  put  to  bed  in  the  pullman. 
The  episode  saddened  and  hardened  him  for  days, 
but  he  neither  justified  nor  condemned  himself  for 
It.  He  considered  it  an  esst.itial  part  of  the  climb 
up.  He  had  waited  at  the  station  till  the  train 
pulled  out.  As  he  came  out  on  the  street  a  Sal- 
vation Army  officer  was  holding  forth  to  a  group. 

"I  wonder  if  that  steam  hoists  some  men  up?"  he 
asked  a  listener. 

The  officer  was  reading  the  account  of  the  devils 
cast  out  of  the  man  that  sent  the  swine  over  the 
cliff  into  the  sea. 

Ward  suddenly  burst  into  a  laugh  as  he  listened, 
ihen  he  hurried  off. 

The  years  had  passed  and  Ward  never  once  met 
the  admiral  who  had  given  him  the  chance  to  reach 
the  first  rung  of  the  ladder.  All  drawings  and 
plans  were  presented  to  the  general  manager;  but 
Ward  had  vaguely  learned  that  the  president  was 
breaking  under  some  pressure.  Westerly  spent 
much  time  abroad.  Dillon,  the  railroad  man, 
bulked  larger  in  the  directors'  conferences.  Wages 
had  gone  up  a  notch  every  year.  Profits  hadn't;  and, 
except  for  government  battleships,  orders  had 
shrunk  every  year.  To  Ward's  amazement  he 
learned  that,  apart  from  coasters  and  the  navy,  his 
nation  had  less  than  a  dozen  ships  in  international 


71 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


trade  on  the  high  seas.  This  controversy  of  ship 
vrrsiis  railroad;  powerful  foreign  pool  versus  puny 
domestic  marine;  wages  versus  profits;  capital  ver- 
sus labor;  the  fit  versus  the  unfit — fasci.-'ted  him 
like  a  world  game  of  chess.  He  used  to  play  the 
chess  game  over  in  his  mind  at  night  when  he  war 
pottering  in  his  laboratory,  or  listening  to  the  argu- 
ments of  the  World  Workers.  For  their  aims  he 
cared  less  than  a  feather's  weight.  What  he  wanted 
was  to  get  at  the  motives,  the  mainsprings  of  action, 
the  direction  of  aim — of  all  the  men  on  the  chess- 
board. Some  day  he  knew  a  master  hand  would 
grasp  and  direct  all  those  puppets  and  he  whose 
brain  and  hand  could  swerve  the  aim  would  con- 
trol all  the  commerce,  all  the  gold,  all  the  power 
of  all  the  nations  of  the  world.  The  curious  feature 
was  he  knew,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  that  only  one 
other  man  of  all  these  puppets  saw  the  Armageddon 
coming;  and  that  man  was  the  labor  leader  who  had 
evinced  such  violent  distrust — McGee;  who  had 
given  him  the  fifty  cents  to  join  the  union  long  ago. 

One  day  the  general  manager  came  hurriedly 
from  a  directors'  meeting  to  Ward  in  the  engineer- 
ing office.  Ward  was  busy  over  prints  of  the  new 
torpedo. 

"I  say,  Ward,  do  you  know  any  of  those  foreign 
chaps  on  whom  you  could  absolutely  depend  to 
translate  some  very  important  letters  to  the  French 
and  German  experts — I  mean  without  any  twist  of 
expression  that  would  betray  our  plans?" 

Ward  laid  down  his  pencil.     "I  know  them  all," 


todi- 

'  Do 
1    Irn 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  73 

he  Mid:  "hut  I  would  not  like  to  trust  plan,  to 
men  who  arc  spies  for  foreign  yar.l,.  I  could  trans- 
late them  for  you  or  dictate  straight  in  FVench  and 

ticrman  if  you  like " 

"What?    Are  you  sure  of  yourself,  W.uJ 
meal  terms  in  both  French  and  Ger.u.  ..r  ' 

"Absolutely  sure,"  answered  W:n,  .l,'„vly 
you  thmk  I've  monkeyed  with  n,>chiiurv  ^i 
pickled  in  oil  for  nothing?  Do  you  thinV  r  ,  culti- 
vated  those  ranting  fools  every  Sunday  nl.ht  r,r 
cght  years  for  nothing?  I've  been  waitin--  >or  th.s 
summons,     he  said. 

"Ranting  fools,  eh?"  The  words  seemed  to  give 
the  manager  assurance.  "Come,  then,  at  once,"  he 
said.  If  you  don't  fall  down  on  this  it  means  a 
place  on  the  board." 

When  Ward  entered  the  directors'  room  he  sav 
the  admiral  closely  for  the  first  time  in  these  eight 
years.     Westerly  sat  at  the  head  of  a  long  ma- 
hogany table.     He  had  aged  greatly  but  held  him- 
self with  exaggerated  erectness,  like  a  soldier  front- 
ing a  foe.    He  was  thin,  almost  attenuated,  and  his 
hair  had  grown  snow  white.     One  hand  heid  eye- 
glasses of  tortoise  shell  frame  and  black  silk  guard 
before  his  face;  the  other  had  a  sheaf  of  documents 
which  he  was  scanning.     Ward  noticed  that  both 
hands  had  a  slight  tremor  as  of  a  man  nerve  stru^c 
At  the  other  end  of  the  table  sat  Dillon,  gr   an 
older    fatter   more  rubicund,  with  a  red  wattle  of 
grizzled  flesh  connecting  his  chin  and  his  neck.    The 
mans  life  was  notoriously  evil;  and  the  mottled 


74 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


face  and  dulled  eyes  bore  the  stamp  of  it.  Even 
Ward  in  his  hermit  life  of  work  had  heard  tales 
of  it.  McGee  it  was,  one  Sunday  night,  who  had 
said:  "If  men  like  him  was  poor  they'd  be  lynched! 
Law!  Faugh!"  At  the  table  also  sat  two  youngish 
men — one  about  Ward's  age,  with  red  hair  and  red 
tie ;  the  other  black  iyed,  a  mere  boy.  Ward  recog- 
nized them  as  the  cousins  who  held  the  minors' 
stock  in  the  ship  yards— the  boys  of  the  horseback 
rides  long  ago  in  the  woods  by  the  sea,  and  up  on 
the  driveway  to  the  Sea  Cliff  mansion  house.  Heb- 
den  was  cracking  jokes  with  the  old  colonel.  Trues- 
dale  sat  with  a  bored  look,  as  if  wondering  why  he 
was  present  in  a  business  conference  at  all.  The 
admiral  was  dictating  letters  to  a  typist  without  look- 
ing up.  Ward  took  the  typewritten  letters  and  went 
out  to  translate  them. 

"Bring  them  up  to  my  house  to-night  at  ten," 
ordered  the  admiral  as  Ward  receded  through  the 
door. 


This  time  he  went  out  to  the  Sea  Cliff  mansion 
house  in  the  company  motor  car.  He  laughed  to 
himself  as  he  whisked  up  the  driveway  past  the 
porter's  lodge.  The  obstructions  in  the  gateways 
of  progress  didn't  matter  so  much,  once  you  had 
learned  how  to  dispose  of  them.  The  butler  di- 
rected him  straight  to  the  library.  Apparently  he 
was  unannounced,  for  the  admiral  sat  in  a  red 
leather  chair  before  the  fireplace  with  his  arm  round 
the  shoulder  of  his  daughter,  who  was  on  a  foot- 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  75 

rest  before  the  fire.  The  chandeliers  were  heavily 
shaded  m  red,  and  the  Venetian  shade  of  mosaic 
green  on  the  h'brary  table  gave  only  a  tempered 
hght.  Ward  stood  in  the  door  for  the  moment, 
waiting  some  sign  of  recognition.  The  red  flame 
ot  the  fire  played  on  the  face  of  the  girl.  She 
looked  to  be  not  more  than  seventeen;  and  was  in 
tears. 

"I  can't  marry  Mr.  Hebden  if  he  doesn't  propose 
to  me,  papa,"  she  was  saying. 

"And,  by  Heavens,  you  shan't  marry  that  ob- 
scene old  man  if  he  crushes  the  shipping  interests 
to  an  eggshell,"  vowed  the  admiral. 

Ward  stepped  back  in  the  hall  and  asked  the 
butler  to  announce  him.  When  he  reentered  the 
library  the  daughter  ha,^.  gone.  The  father  still  sat 
before  the  fire  shading  his  eyes. 

"Come  in— sit  down,"  he  said  absently 

"Here  are  the  letters  and  the  translations,"  said 
Ward,  not  accepting  the  invitation  to  sit  down 
The   admiral  took  them,   switched  on  stronger 

^^w    rM^'  ''^'''  ^'^'"^  ^'''  B'««"  and  looked 
at  Ward.    His  look  rested. 

"Where  have  I  seen  you?"  he  acked. 
Ward  noted  with  regret  how  thin  the  voice  had 
grown. 

"I  think  you  saw  me  in  a  scrap  with  your  porter 
eight  years  ago,  sir,  when  I  was  trying  to  bring  a 
message  up  to  you  about  the  labor  delegates  from  the 
loreign  ship  yards." 

"Ah;  are  you  the  lad  who  wrote  all  the  names 


76 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


down  on  your  shirt?    I  have  wondered  what  became 
of  you.     Wanted  a  leg  up  the  ladder  of  life,  or 


you 


something— didn't  you?  Well— how  have  y„u 
found  It?  Did  the  feet  above  trample  the  fingers 
below " 

"That  hasn't  bothered  me  as  much  as  the  hands 
below  pulling  a  fellow's  leg,"  said  Ward. 

The  admiral  put  on  his  glasses,  tilted  the  table 
shade  so  that  the  light  fell  on  the  young  man's  face, 
and  scrutinized  him. 

"Glad  to  see  you've  made  good,"  he  remarked 
absently.  "If  one  repentant  sinner  causes  rejoicing 
in  Heaven  I  wonder  what  kind  of  hilarious  time 
the  angels  have  when  one  man  of  all  one  helps  makes 
good.  Sit  down";  and  he  went  carefully  over  the 
letters  one  by  one. 

"Been  abroad?"  he  asked. 
"No,  sir." 

"How   have   you   learned    a    technical    speaking 
knowledge  of  French  and  German?" 

"Cultivated  the   foreign  delegates  you  sent  mc 
to  interview  eight  years  ago." 

"And  did  you  take  down  all  the  lessons  on  your 
shirt?" 

"No;  I  tried  to  soak  a  few  on  the  tip  of  my 
tongue  and  lingers." 

"You've  succeeded  very  well,"  commented  the 
admiral. 


Thereafter  Ward  was  frequently  called  up  to  the 
iea  Cliff  mansion  to  take  dictation  in  foreign  Ian- 


A  DOUBLE  CROSS  ,7 

furniture  or  oL  /x^V  sL IZ  .  '"""""'^^ 
Ward  didn't  know  whf  her  to  1°  '"'"i°'  ^""'^'^• 
that  she  didn't  trertSrt  °  J,  ''"'""^  "^  P'"^^'' 
descension  of  an  upperse™  ''^g  JP^^  --  -"- 
him ;  and  her  airv  ^L.^Iu  '""P'^  '8"°'-^^ 

and  feet  in  her  oresenre      H    (  1  ?  *"  ''^"'^^ 

couth  co..on  s';r  irthe";retc;r:  "^'  ""; 
fine  statuar-  and  v^f  !»►        t"^'=sencf  ot  a  piece  of 

raw  produc't-hf /ever  ::  th  P^'^'^''^^^'^  ^°  'he 
by  the  woman  :„  her  He  J.  "^"Z",'"'"  «--d 
but  was  as  in,!  adm/red  the  statuary, 

Milo  pa ste     c'.stTh  t"';'."  '"  '  ""'^-  ^^^  ^ 

becausJ  it  "d   n^ttorklnt 'i:-  '''  '"''''  ^^'"^' 

I'urpose!     That,,   I     «  ^'■''^'■''«'   '^"'"g 

ary  did  not  «tk  in/o  .     "'  '""'  "^  ^'"""'"'  ''"" 

house      Th.         '.""i^thmg  impending  in  the  great 
nouse.      The  serving  men   looked  anxlo,,,      W     ! 
h«d  a   sensation   that  Admiral   Well"     , 
posely  keeping  out  of  the  wny       W  nd  Ln      T" 

open  window  blew  the  ferns  ak');:rtlrcl:" 


f 


•wwev  t'-  •^■k  ir  r 


7« 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


fountain.  Ward  caught  a  glimpse  of  Dillon's  purp- 
ling face  against  the  window — the  apoplectic  col- 
onel held  the  admiral's  young  daughter  firmly  in 
his  arms  in  an  eiwbracc  that  was  a  farce  at  the 
fatherly  and  boce  close  resemblance  to  the  leer  of 
a  wanton  satyr.  He  was  calling  her  his  "child — his 
old  friend's  baby,"  and  more  of  the  same ;  but  he  had 
kissed  her  twice  upon  the  lips,  and  the  girl's  face 
was  scarlet.  Beneath  her  lidded  eyes  was  a  frenzy 
of  fear;  yet  a  greater  fear  seemed  to  rob  her  of 
resistance. 

"Just  say  the  word,  my  dear,  just  one  word,  and 
your  father  shall  be  set  free  of  these  hell  hounds 
that  are  destroying  his  business " 

The  girl  had  drawn  her  lips  as  far  away  from  the 
mottled  old  red  face  as  she  could  reach;  but  he 
held  her  girdled  tightly  round  the  waist. 

It  came  to  Tom  Ward  in  a  flash,  in  a  sort  of  sixth 
sense,  as  it  had  come  to  him  that  night  when  the 
searchlight  swung  round  his  feet  like  a  sword;  as 
it  came  again  that  morning  long  ago  on  the  drive- 
way, when  he  saw  the  admiral's  troubled  look  follow 
the  receding  figures  of  the  children ;  as  it  had  come 
that  first  night  he  came  up  to  the  library  and  heard 
the  father  vow  she  "should  not  marry  that  obscene 
old  man  though  he  crushed  the  ship  yards  to  an 
eggshell."  Tom  Ward's  heavy  boot — and  it  was  a 
big  one — came  down  on  the  vitrified  brick  of  the 
fountain  floor  with  a  clump  like  the  hammer  of 
Thor. 


,f'\v9iam)'% 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE  REWARD 


"As  I  was  saying,  admiral,  "  began  the  colonel. 
His  arms  had  freed  the  captive  us  by  magic  and 
the  girl  had  vanished  rather  than  fled— VVard  saw 
her  vault  through  the  window  into  the  shrubbery 
before  the  old  colonel  had  slowed  his  ponderosity 
round  to  face,  not  the  admiral,  but  the  head  en- 
gineer of  the  ship  yards. 

He  gave  Ward  a  piercing  look  as  of  an  old  satyr 
caught  in  misdeeds.  Ward's  face  wore  a  mask. 
He  had  elevated  that  number  eleven  boot  on  the 
edge  of  the  marble  fountain  and  affected  to  be  tying 
his  shoe  lace.  It  was  not  the  pose  of  a  picturesque 
hero;  but  it  was  effective.  The  old  colonel's  face 
lighted  up  with  the  glee  of  a  sly  young  thing  of 
sixty  who  had  not  been  wanton  after  all. 

"Oh,  hullo  Ward,"  he  said.  "Been  wantin'  to 
see  you  for  a  long  time."  He  was  clap-him-on-the- 
shoulder,  diffusely,  profusely  affable— oh,  a  devil 
of  a  fellow,  all  puffed  up  in  his  chest,  with  his  wat- 
tles reddening  and  purpling,  purpling  and  reddening 
as  he  panted  out  asthmatic  wheezy  greeting.  "Been 
wantin'  to  see  you  for  a  long  time !     I  understand 

you're  strong  with  labor  and  that  kind  of  thing " 

79 


fto 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


Ward  had  tied  his  shoe  and  now  elaborately 
turned  up  his  trousers  leg  before  he  took  the  number 
eleven  boot  off  the  marble  edge  of  the  fountain. 
For  years  after,  though  Dillon  came  to  eat  humbly 
from  Ward's  hand  like  a  whipped  dog,  the  old 
colonel  used  to  tell  that  story  of  the  big  financier's 
gawky  manners— "why,  >^-'d  seen  him  with  his  own 
eyes  put  a  dirty  boot — a  positively  dirty  boot — on 

the  Venetian  fountain "  of  such  recollections  is 

the  history  of  the  great  composed.  The  .-pisode  of 
what  the  colonel  had  seen  c\  en  got  into  the  papers. 
What  Ward  had  seen  was  never  published  for 
reasons  that  may  be  inferred.  Ward  clumped  his 
foot  down,  straightened  himself — and  the  colonel 
never  knew  just  how  tense  Ward's  steel  muscles 
had  grown  for  a  second — then  he  walked  across  to 
the  open  window  beside  the  colonel. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  literally  forgetting  the  ex- 
istence of  the  admiral's  daughter,  "I've  tried  to 
keep  my  hand  in  with  the  labor  situation  always. 
I  like  to  know  not  what  men  tell  me,  but  the  real 
motives  behind  what  they  tell  me " 

The  colonel  offered  young  Ward  a  cigar  and 
looked    .vice  at  him. 

"Dtc  ced  pretty  monkey — my  friend,  the  admiral's 
daughter,"  he  puffed,  lighting  his  own  cigar  first  and 
offering  Ward  the  remnants  of  a  ma^ch. 

Ward  took  the  match  and  threw  it  out  of  the 
window  and  put  the  cigar  in  his  pocket. 

"The  admiral's  daughter?"  he  questioned  with- 


-:-in^wa^v  '• 


THE   REWARD  gi 

out  changing  an  eyelash.     "I  didn't  know  he  had 
one.     I  never  see  her." 

'i'he  colonel's  face  lighted  again.  "Yes-  been 
wanting  to  see  you  about  this  labor  situation  for 
a  long  time!  We  railroad  men  are  supposed  to  be 
hostile  to  shipping  ocean  interests— water  freights, 
in  fact;  but  we  were  not,  my  boy!  Let  me  tell  you 
there  isn  t  a  railroad  in  the  country  to-day  doesn't 
own  its  own  steamships " 

"You  mean  the  railroads  own  all  the  coastal 
ships.     I  know  thai  "  -nswered  Ward.     "It  keeps 

the  freights "  he  w.s  going  to  say  "up"  but  he 

changed  and  said,  "it  keeps  water  and  land  freights 
level ' 

"Ves;  my  boy,  on  the  level,  that's  why  we're  just 
as  keenly  interested  in  the  welfare  of  our  sailors 
as  our  tram  hands.  Now,  this  seaman's  bill  pro- 
viding  more  comforts  for  the  crews,  better  wages 
better  fare— why  can't  you  get  together  with  McGee 
and  push  that  through  Congress?  McGee  won't 
deal  with  me-thinks  I  have  the  cloven  hoof  and 
that  kind  of  thing— won't  listen  to  a  word  from 
me;  but,  if  living  conditions  were  improved  on  the 

ships.  It  wouldn't  be  so  hard  to  get  sailors " 

Ward  could  have  laughed  in  the  old  man's  face. 
1  he  bill  was  designed  to  make  it  so  difficult  to  man 
ships  at  all  that  the  ship  yards  had  wondered  if  it 
were  blackmail  to  compel  "a  buy  off"  from  them; 
suspect 


railroads.     Ward  had  warned  McG. 
but   McGee   had   accused   Ward   of  b 


ee  against  it; 


eing 


pot- 


82 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


bellied  straddler;  of  trying  to  save  capital  by  shav- 
ing labor."  McGee  had  fallen  into  the  trap  head- 
long. The  bill  needed  only  the  backing — sincere 
or  insincere — of  the  ship  yards  to  get  a  favorable 
hearing  in  a  Congress  distracted  by  the  fact  that 
the  country's  flag  was  \  ^.i.shing  from  the  seas. 

"You  want  mc  to  ; ,  down  to  Washington  and 
lobby  for  that?"  aske>.  Ward. 

The  colonel  blinked.  No — that  was  a  bit  direct; 
but  couldn't  he  stir  up  these  crazy  fool  World 
Workers,  or  what  did  he  call  'em,  to  clamor  so 
loudly  for  the  bill  that  Congress  would  tumble  to  it 
without  any  lobbying? 

"I'll  try,"  said  Ward. 

The  colonel  became  apoplectic  with  gratitude.  He 
put  his  arms  round  Ward's  husky  shoulders.  He 
invited  him  to  his  down  town  apartments  on  a  cer- 
tain "gay"  night. 

"Excuse  me,  Colonel,"  Ward  disengaged  himself 
from  the  clammy  embrace.  "We'll  have  to  have 
it  a  little  plainer,  and  in  contract  form,  black  and 
white,  signed  by  you.  I'll  get  the  men  to  push 
behind  M:Gee  on  that  bill  on  condition — well — in 
a  word — what's  my  reward?  Where  do  I  come 
in?" 

The  colonel  purpled.  "I  hold  the  proxies  of 
scattered  stock  in  the  ship  yards  for  the  railroads." 
he  aaid. 

"I  have  known  that  ever  since  I  was  born,"  an- 
swered Ward. 


THE  REWARD 


83 


Dillon  blinked  at  the  end  of  his  cigar  and  spunked 
the  ashes  off  through  the  open  window. 

"Wt  can  give  you  swift  advancement,"  he  prom- 
ised. 

"Too  vague,"  answered  Ward.  "I  am  on  a  three- 
year  contract  now.  If  I  do  this  it  may  hurt  me  with 
the  ship  yards  and  undo  eight  years'  work.  I've 
got  to  have  a  contract  'or  something  tangible  better 
than  I  now  have — say  ten  thousand  a  year  for  five 
years.  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to  tie  up  for  more 
than  five  years " 

The  colonel  blew  a  hot  oath  out  with  his  cigar 
smoke  and  informed  Ward  that,  by  Blank,  he  wasn't 
the  Standard  Oil  Company  or  Steel  Trust;  they 
weren't  burning  dollar  bills  in  fool  salaries. 

Ward  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  window-sill. 

"Colonel  Dillon,"  he  said,  "let  us  lay  off  our 
masks  and  quit  bluffing  1  You,  as  a  railroad  man, 
want  this  legislation  to  go  through  before  the  open- 
ing of  Panama  to  put  the  steamships  at  a  disad- 
vantage against  the  railroads !  In  a  word,  to  keep 
freights  up  to  their  present  level  of  all  land  routes. 
All  right!  If  this  legislation  goes  through  the 
steamships  are  hamstrung,  boycotted,  tied  in  bow- 
knots;  and  you've  got  the  end  of  the  rope  tying 
them!  One  single  minute's  saving  in  the  freights  of 
the  transcontinentals  would  pay  you  the  salary  I 
am  asking,"  and  he  rattled  off  detailed  figures  at 
which  the  older  man  gasped. 

Dillon  smoked  three  cigars  in  succession  without 
speaking.     "It's  such  a  conditional  gamble  whether 


84 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


you  can  put  it  through,"  he  said,  "let  me  suggest 
another  arrangement  that  wouldn't  fall  on  the  rail- 
roads! I  hold  the  proxies  in  ship  yards'  stock  for 
the  railroads!  Suppose  we  let  you  hold  that  stock 
as  dummy — I'd  rather  not  appear  in  this,  consider- 
ing my  friendship  for  Westerly  and  his  daughter! 
If  you  held  those  proxies  you  could  easily  vote  your- 
self in  vice-president — eh?" 

They  heard  the  admiral  coming  slowly  and  feebly 
across  the  fountain  floor. 

"Have  that  ready  in  a  contract  at  your  apartment 
to-morrow  night  and  I'll  put  the  union  behind  the 
demand,"  said  Ward. 

The  admiral  nodded  to  the  two  men  perfunctorily 
and  gave  Ward  some  signed  letters  to  carry  back 
to  the  ship  yards'  office.  To  Dillon  he  gave  such  a 
look  as  a  victim  might  give  to  an  executioner. 
Ward's  comment  as  he  passed  out  was  that  the  old 
man  was  "not  strong  enough  to  handle  the  hog." 
The  gentleman  so  designated  called  from  the  open 
window  to  Ward  on  the  drive  way  "not  to  hurry"; 
he'd  "pick  him  up  in  the  limousine  and  run  him  in 
to  town." 

Ward  proceeded  slovly  down  the  driveway,  per- 
fectly aware  that  he  hnd  one  hand  in  a  railroad 
scheme;  the  other  in  a  ship  yards'  plan.  The  aim  of 
his  life  was  slowly  framing  to  rivet  these  two  to- 
gether in  the  great  wor'd  trust.  Midway  down  the 
driveway  he  paused.  On  the  bench  where  he  had 
been  interviewed  by  the  admiral  eight  years  before 
sat  the  admiral's  daughter.    Her  face  was  still  crim- 


THE   REWARD 


8S 

son.    Her  eyes  questioned  him  with  horrible  shame. 
Ward  took  off  his  hat   and  sat  down  beside  her. 
I  he  cnms  >n  on  I    r  cheeks  deepened.     Plainly,  this 
was  the  kmd  nf  girl  who  would  never  know  how  to 
defend  herself  from  anything  in  life-a  hot-house 
product  that  needed  hot-house  walls  and  high  tem- 
perature     Ward  intended  in  the  most  impersonal 
way  m  the  world  to  have  a  hot-house  some  day. 
What  he  said  had  nothing  personal  in  it  whatever- 
Do  you  know  exactly  how  many  shares  of  ship 
yards  Admiral  Westerly  controls?" 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  the  most  furious  anger 
bo  her.  was  another  man  angling  her  father's  ruin 
through  her. 

;'You  had  better  ask  him,"  she  retorted,  rising. 
Sit  down,"  ordered  Ward;  "for  God's  sake  don't 
Hy  ott  at  a  tangent  the  way  women  always  do  and 
spoil  the  best  plans!     For  your  own  sake  listen— 
for  your  father's!    I'm  not  prying  into  your  father's 
aftairs;  but  once,  long  ago,  your  father  did  me  the 
only  favor  any  human  being  has  ever  done  me     He 
gave  me  my  chance  to  get  my  feet  on  the  ladder- 
and  now  I'd  like  to  repay  him.    I  saw  that  hog  with 
you  through  the  ferns.     Your  father  is  afraid  of 
h.m  in  the  company!     You  were  afraid  to  resist 
him!     I  clumped  my  seventeen  boot  on  your  china 
fountain  on  purpose  to  scare  him  off!     By  hccky 
I  wanted  to  get  my  clutches  in  his  red  jelly  neck- 
but,   when  you've  an  aim   ahead,   never  lose   your 
head— use  it— use  such  swine  as  Dillon;  then  throw 


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^^  (716)   388  -  5989  -  fox 


86 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


them  over  the  cliffs  into  the  sea.    Just  learn  how  to 
protect  yourself  from  them — that's  all!" 

She  was  sitting  almost  as  rigid  as  the  marble, 
looking  straight  into  his  soul;  and,  let  it  be  set  down 
to  her  credit,  or  discredit,  that  she  was  a  little 
piqued — this  was  the  first  man  she  had  ever  met 
whom  she  could  not  stir. 

"How  can  you  repay  my  father?"  she  asked.  "If 
you  are  going  to  do  anything,  do  it  before  the  direc- 
tors meet  next  month;  or  they  will  depose  him." 
"If  your  father  had  Dillon's  proxies  would  that 
give  him  control  by  a  sure  big  majority?"  he  asked, 
twirling  his  hat  and  never  seeing  her.  She  noticed 
that  his  nails  were  not  manicured  properly. 

"Would  it?"  she  cried  with  little  ripples  in  her 
voice.  If  Ward  had  not  been  gazing  afar,  listening 
to  the  siren  of  his  own  ambition,  he  would  have 
heard  those  ripples  and  seen  the  look;  and  his  soul 
might  have  bounded  to  meet  her  quest  of  youth, 
looking  for  a  great  love;  but  he  was  twirling  his  hat 
and  thinking — thinking.  "Why,  half  Dillon's  prox- 
ies would  secure  father,"  she  cried. 

Tom  Ward  sat  silent  a  moment — then  spoke  ab- 
sently and  apart  from  the  subject.  "Most  women 
are  babbling  fools,"  he  said,  "and  spill  the  pail  soon 
as  the  cow  is  milked;  but  I  reckon  as  your  dad's  life 
depends  on  it  you'll  hold  your  tongue!  I  want  to 
repay  the  favor  your  father  did  mel  If  you  doubt 
that  then  you'll  believe  that,  in  repaying  the  favor 
he  did  me,  I  also  want  to  do  myself  a  bigger  favor! 
You  avoid  that  obscene  old  man — take  abed  sick 


THE   REWARD 


87 


or  something— just  don't  see  him  for  a  while !    You 
girls  think  a  man  like  that  loves  only  you!     Bahl 
It's  only  an  old  dotard's  frenzy— he'd  hug  and  slob- 
ber that  bronze  dancer  kicking  her  heels  above  your 
fountam  if  you  put  a  flounce  on  it!     But  it's  dan- 
gerous for  a  girl  as  green  of  life  as  you  are !    Look 
here— don't  let  us  deceive  ourselves!     You  avoid 
that  old  goat  and  let  me  take  care  of  you!     In  a 
month  I'll  have  all  Dillon's  proxies  or  give  him  a 
tussle  with  the  labor  unions!     If  your  father  will 
hitch  up  with  me  we'll  control  the  yards;  but,  look 
here,  don't  let  us  have  high-flying  nonsense!     You 
have  no  more  interest  in  me  than  you  have  in  that 
block  of  wood  under  yon  tree.     I'm  uncouth  and 
rude  and  raw!     I  have  no  more  interest  in  you  than 
in  that  bronze  dancer  on  top  your  fountain;  but  I 
need  fine  finishing  in  my  scheme  of  life!     You  need 
protection— hot-house  atmosphere  and  that  kind  of 

thmg!      Well,    then "    he    was    speaking    still 

slower,  still  more  awkwardly,  "just  to  make  secure 
your  father  will  always  stand  by  me  if  I  double- 
cross  Dillon,  why  don't  you — marry  me?" 

Did  ever  a  swain  utter  more  brutal,  blunt,  awk- 
ward proposal?  The  girl  had  listened  with  wild, 
amazed,  widening  eyes. 

"I'll  leave  you  free— so  help  me  God— free  as 
your  own  father  would,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
flush. 

They  heard  the  chug  of  the  colonel's  limousine 
commg  round  the  curve  of  the  driveway.  Before 
Tom  Ward  had  got  his  awkward  lover  wits  gath- 


88 


THE   NF.W    DAWN 


cred  together  she  had  bent  her  beautiful  neck,  kissed 
his  hand,  and  sprung  into  hiding  behind  the  shrub- 
bery; and  Ward  swung  lightly  into  the  front  seat 
of  the  moving  car. 

The  next  day  Admiral  Westerly  and  his  daugh- 
ter sailed  abroad;  and,  when  the  directors'  meeting 
came  round,  Tom  Ward  found  himself  holding  not 
only  Dillon's  proxies  but  Westerly's.  He  was  easily 
and  unanimously  elected  vice-president  at  a  salary  of 
$25,000  a  year;  but  the  rescue  caine  too  late  for  the 
admiral.  He  died  from  a  stroke  of  paralysis  at 
some  Mediterranean  resort.  When  Ward  heard 
that  Dillon  was  sailing  for  the  Mediterranean  he 
cabled  to  the  dead  man's  daughter  and  secretly  took 
swift  passage  for  Southampton.  There  he  was 
quietly  married  to  Louise  Westerly.  I  am  not  quite 
sure  if  even  at  this  stage  she  did  not  feel  herself  a 
puppet  in  the  game.  Hebden  was  on  the  home- 
bound  steamer  and  ministered  to  her  self-pity.  Why 
had  she  taken  this  rash  step  before  giving  him  a 
chance  to  declare  himself?  It  was  not  a  happy 
home-coming  to  the  Sea  Cliff  mansion  house;  but 
the  years  rolled  on  with  Tom  Ward's  plans;  and 
sometimes  he  remembered  his  wife  and  sometimes 
he  forgot  her.  As  to  that  seaman's  bill — the  price 
of  his  power — he  had  spent  all  his  eight  years'  sav- 
ings setting  the  labor  unions  and  the  press  shouting 
for  it.  Then,  when  the  thing  took  form  in  Wash- 
ington, he  quietly  hung  it  up  in  one  of  the  Congres- 
sional committees  and  asphyxiated  all  demand  for 


THE  REWARD 


89 


it  from  press  and  public.  When  the  growing  world 
ot  traffic  began  encroaching  on  the  Sea  Cliff  he 
wrote  h.s  wife  a  blank  check  to  build  a  new  mansion 
house— which  the  press  described  us  "a  palace"— 
down  in  the  millionaire  square  facing  the  park. 


PART    II 
IN  THE  FULLNESS  OF  HIS  POWER 

CHAPTER    VII 


WARD  S    NEW   CREED   IN    PRIVATE 

It  was  colossal ! 

The  man  ran  his  big  hand  through  the  tuft  of 
yellow  hair  that  stood  up  from  the  crown  of  his 
head  in  a  crest,  and  feeling  his  temples  beady  with 
sweat  began  mopping  at  his  forehead.  Rising  im- 
patiently, he  threw  open  the  window  sash  and  leaned 
out  in  the  cool  of  the  winter  night.  The  stars  shone 
clear  as  steel  over  the  snow-padded  silences  of  a 
white  park;  but  the  man  did  not  see  them. 

He  was  looking  to  a  far  future,  like  the  long 
avenue  that  ran  to  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  city 
down  there  below  the  park.  It  had  always  been 
at  way;  the  light  ahead,  receding  as  fast  as  he 
pursued;  the  shadow  of  his  past,  behind;  thvnew 
reaches,  the  endless  distances,  opening  to  th. '  ore, 
beckoning,  baffling,  leading  on  to  new  battl>  j -;lds, 
new  conquests.  The  odd  thing  of  it  was — you  i  luld 
not  stop  going!  Life  was  a  road  without  stop. 
There  was  always  the  grim  shadow  of  yourself  be- 
90 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE        91 

hind— of  what  you  had  done,  driving  you  on  with 
momentum  to  do  more! 

The  future  was  not  so  rose-tinted  as  it  had  been 
thirty  years  before,  when  Ward  sei  cut  from  the 
httie,  unpamted  house  behind  the  woods.  The  gold 
edges  of  hope  had  turned  to  the  steel  grays  of  con- 
Hict.  What  was  hope  at  nineteen  had  become  a 
struggle  at  forty-ninc;  a  struggle,  a  conquest,  a 
triumph!  To  succeed  you  must  fight;  and  once  into 
a  hght  It  IS  come  out,  under  or  on  top;  and  to  hold 
what  you  have  won  vou  must  keep  fighting'  That 
was  why  the  gold  had  turned  to  gray,  and  Ward's 
future  at  forty-nine— while  dazzling  as  a  mid-day 
sun — foreshadowed  storm. 

He  had  succeeded  beyond  the  outermost  reach  of 
hope!  His  dream  had  been  to  succeed  and  .  .  . 
stop;  but,  now,  he  was  unable  to  stop.  He  could 
not  rest  satisfied  if  he  had  wished.  There  were  the 
yelping  foreign  rivals  ready  to  leap  at  first  sign  of 
weakening.  Weakening  in  him  meant  gain  to  them. 
Feace  had  to  be  a  victory,  a  continuous  victory,  a 
victory  reenacted  at  every  step  of  the  way.  These 
market  place  battles  were  worse  than  primitive  club 
They  never  stopped.  They  made  life  one  relentless 
ceaseless  fight.  ' 

It  was  when  planning  a  defensive  campaign 
against  rivals  one  night  that  a  cipher  cable  had 
come  to  Tom  Ward,  which  read: 

"//  we  combine  av/A  foreign  steamship  pools  we 
can  control  the  commerce  of  America  through  carry- 
ing trade."  ■' 


92 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


The  cable  was  signed  by  his  liuropeaii  manager. 
Ward  read  and  reread  the  message.  I  hen,  he  be- 
gan pacing  the  hbrary.  1  lere,  at  last,  was  a  chance 
to  conquer  all  rivals;  rival  railroad  and  rival  coal 
mine,  by  levying  tribute  on  all  they  shipped.  If  he 
missed  this  opportunity  he  must  keep  on  fighting — 
or  be  beaten  off  the  stock  market,  and  drop  out. 

That  was  the  way  the  idea  first  came.  Then, 
with  a  meteoric  suddenness,  out  of  chaotic  thoughts 
flashed  a  light  ....  the  light  of  a  tremendous 
possibility  ....  a  chance  to  stop  this  cut-throat 
game  of  competition  in  ocean  traffic  forever!  If  his 
own  home  rivals  would  only  come  together  in  an 
understanding,  what  was  to  hinder  controlling  the 
commerce  of  the  world  through  its  carrying  trade? 
Steamship  and  railroad  could  levy  surer  tribute  on 
the  commerce  of  all  nations  than  Roman  conqueror 
ever  exacted  from  shackled  captive,  or  subjected  na- 
tion. At  most,  the  Roman  conqueror  never  exacted 
more  than  a  few  pennies  of  tribute  from  subjugated 
kingdoms;  but  the  world  carriers  by  water  and  rail 
could  exact  a  fifth  of  all  a  nation  ate  or  wore, 
shipped  or  bought.  As  his  mind  ran  along  the  lines 
of  a  new  century's  possibilities.  Ward  saw  himself, 
not  a  plutocrat  drawing  tribute  of  gold  from  all 
men  and  all  nations,  but  a  beneficent  Power  binding 
all  nations  in  a  gold-riveted  peace  that  must  last 
forever;  because  he,  who  controlled  the  seas,  con- 
trolled the  world.  He  laughed  as  he  bit  on  his 
cigar  and  thought  back  all  the  long,  tumultuous, 
crowded  years.     Ship  yards  had  led  to  steel.     He 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE        93 

had  been  the  man  to  induce  the  ship  yards  to  com- 
bine, then  to  induce  steel  to  buy  into  ship  yards; 
and  steel  had  led  to  railroad  control ;  and  what  use 
were  railroads  if  foreign  ships  wholly  controlled 
entrance  to  world  markets?  What  use  reducing 
tariffs  to  the  American  public  if  the  foreign  steam 
ship  pools  advanced  rates  to  cover  every  reduction? 
Please  note  that  at  this  stage  Ward  considered  him- 
self an  altogether  beneficent  factor  in  public  life! 

The  idea  of  combination,  or  consolidation,  had 
not  originated  with  Ward.  Other  men  had  at- 
tempted the  same  thing  more  or  less  successfully 
with  oil,  and  steel,  and  machinery;  but  the  idea  came 
to  him  now,  because  the  things  of  which  his  wealth 
consisted— food  supplies,  coal,  railroads,  steam 
ships— tottered  on  the  brink  of  ruin  through  com- 
binations abroad. 

Let  him  but  grip  the  markets  of  the  world,  he 
could  hold  the  fighting  grounds  of  earth;  and  the 
ntw  century  might  witness  the  last,  great  struggle, 
the  Armageddon,  for  possession  of  the  whole  earth  ! 
The  more  he  thought  the  more  alluring  the  chance 
seemed!  First,  the  human  family  had  expanded  to 
a  clan;  then,  a  tribe;  then,  a  race;  then,  nations  of 
different  races.  What  next— what  but  the  gradual 
spread  of  the  few  big  powers  over  more  and  more 
of  the  world's  surface  till  there  came  the  last  great 
struggle  for  possession  of  earth?  And  then,  who 
must  will— he,  who  held  the  markets  in  the  palm  of 
his  hand? 

Ward  walked  faster  and  faster,  finally  throwing 


94 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


himself  in  a  leather  chair  with  the  remark,  "Kings 
ran  climb  up  on  a  shelf!  They've  had  their  day. 
I  could  buy  up  half  a  do/i  ii  I'^urupcan  kingdoms 
with  my  wife's  dress  allowance.  Kings  I  Kings! 
What  are  kings?"  He  laughed  stertorously.  J'.ne- 
miiis  said  that  he  assumed  this  attitude  of  contempt 
only  when  he  had  had  hn'f  a  dozen  glasses  of  cham- 
pagne; but  the  wine  that  intoxicated  him  to-night 
was  the  daring  of  his  own  world-wide  ambitions. 

There  would  be  opposition !  .  .  .  Ward  jingled 
the  coins  in  his  pockets.  There  always  had  been 
opposition  from  the  night  he  had  left  the  little,  un- 
painted  house,  and  sent  the  dog  howling  with  the 

stick Oppositions   and  howls  I 

....  As  if  any  man  would  throw  up  the  sponge 
for  opposition  and  howls!  To  be  sure,  some  of 
the  opposition  would  be  more  serious  than  the  dog's, 
but  not  much.  Love  that  impeded  was  always  more 
dangerous  than  unity  that  challenged.  There  was 
the  merciless  grapple  with  enemies  over  that  brib- 
ery business,  when  recalcitrant  legislators  had  re- 
quired encouragement  to  do  as  desired;  but  when 
the  elections  came  round  he  had  trodden  those  legis- 
lators into  a  mire  of  defeat  from  which  there  was 
no  resurrection. 

Ward  bit  the  end  off  his  cigar.  "It  had  been  a 
great  fight,"  he  told  himself,  as  he  struck  a  match, 
"but  you  could  always  depend  on  the  public  being 
fooled  before  elections,  or  after  elections!  .... 
It  just  took  a  coin  put  near  enough  a  man's  eye  to 
shut  the  world  out!     You  could  depend  on  the  man 


WARD'S  NEW  CREFD  IN  PRIVATE        95 

with  a  coin  in  front  being  a  fool !    Yes  .  .  .      there 
would  be  opposition!"    Ward  smok.  >. 

The  yellow  hair  standing  up  in  tufts,  the  promi- 
nent  temples,  the  hard-set  lips,  the  square  jaw  with 
clean-shaven,  massive,  double  chin— were  silhouetted 
agamst  the  back  of  the  old  Venetian  chair  like  a 
face  in  bronze.  There  was  something  abo  it  the 
broad,  flung-out  chest,  the  muiicular  hands,  the  pow- 
erful shoulders,  that  resembled  the  statue  of  a 
gladiator.  It  was  a  face  without  appeal,  without 
response.  It  was  a  calculating  face  with  strength 
or  iron,  will  of  iron,  purpose  of  iron.  \<o  shadow 
of  expression  suggested  a  line  of  approach.  This 
face  would  smile  at  flattery  as  it  smiled  at  hate  It 
would  crush  friends  readily  as  foes.  I/  it  leagi.  ' 
Itself  with  others  it  would  be  to  suck  the  strength  or 
opposition  out— then,  fling  dead  weight  aside. 

The  library  table  was  old  mahogany  with  legs 
of  carved  lion's  feet.  There  were  fire  tints  in  the 
green,  favrile  shade  of  the  study  lamp  that  had 
cost  the  inventors  more  than  twelve  months'  work 
would  have  brought  Ward  thirty  years  before  in  the 
factory.  On  one  wall  a  tapestry  represented  the 
Romans  conquering  Gaul.  Battle  scenes  by  great 
masters  hung  on  the  opposite  side.  The  other  walls 
were  packed  with  books.  A  bronz'  Napoleon  stood 
in  one  corner.  Cssar's  bust  on  the  mantel  faced 
the  plaster  cast  of  a  woman  with  the  laurel  crown 
of  victory  in  her  upheld  right  hand.  A  tiger  rug 
lay  before  the  fireplace.  Though  the  room  indi- 
cated luxury,  it  somehow  conveyed  the  subtle  im- 


96 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


prcssion  of  all  the  arts  ministering  to  a  great,  fight- 
'"Ki  aggressive  force;  and  the  force  seemed  per- 
sonified in  the  man  sitting  intent,  with  face  of  bron/e 
outlined  against  the  antique  carvings  of  the  high- 
baclced  chair. 

A  slight  tap  sounded.  The  heavy  door  opened. 
A  woman  with  black  hair  massed  at  the  neck  en- 
tered disdainfully.  She  was  of  a  willowy  figure 
with  a  sinuous  motion  that  at  once  piqued  and  held 
attention.  A  neck  of  the  lily-stem  order  corre- 
sponded with  a  face  pale  almost  to  pallor.  Thin 
lips,  arched  brows,  an  oval  forehead,  wearing  a 
light  of  snouldering  rebellion,  heavily  lashed, 
Lrown  eyes — all  gave  the  same  impression  of  scorn- 
ful languor.  Where  the  gliding  motion  piqued,  the 
poise  of  the  head  held  aloof  all  reproach.  It  was 
the  kind  of  face  that  all  men  noticed.  The  majority 
of  men  looked  twice.  Men  with  confidence  in  self 
kept  on  looking.  Women  were  either  repelled  or  at- 
tracted strongly,  and  at  once.  There  was  such  plain 
evidence  of  hidden  fires  that  tlie  face  set  you  guess- 
ing at  first  glance.  It  was  a  face  that  would  defy 
everything,  dare  everything;  but  few  would  risk  call- 
ing down  the  I'ghtnings.  Mrs.  Ward  had  bitter 
enemies  without  the  making,  and  friends  without 
the  lifting  of  her  hand. 

Ward  likei'  these  things  in  his  wife.  She  seemed 
to  supply  what  money  could  not  buy,  strength  could 
not  grasp.  He  had  seen  one  languid  flash  of  the 
fire  smouldering  in  her  eyes  transform  an  enemy 
into  a  life-long  friend.    If  Ward  had  been  attempt- 


WAKDS  M- VV  CRi:i:i)  IN  PRIVATE        97 

ing  to  win  over  an  enemy  he  «ould  probably  have 
HT.ttcn  a  check.  One  lift  of  th.  drooping  eye-lashc,, 
one  glance  of  qu.et  scorn  for  incomprehension,  and 
his  wife  had  conveyed  the  subtle  intimation  of  a  flat- 
tery  so  delicate  that  it  was  undetected.  She  sc -ned 
to  envelop  the  people  she  met  with  a  char,,,  that 
gave  the  sense  of  being  exquisitely  happy;  or  else 
she  aroused  an  instant  distrust 

Ward  didn't  understand,  but  he  li^    :.  the  stimulus 
of  surprise  m  h,s  wfe.     He  felt,  sor.,ehow,  that  the 
element  of  uncertainty  in  his  wife  had  always  held 
h  m  true     He  ,,ked  to  watch  the  flitting  expressions 
of  her  face,  disdam-perhaps,  disdain  of  hers    f, 
most  of  all-smouldering  rebellion,  ardor  so  dv      e 
■t  seemed  just  beyond  reach,  a  whole  world  of  un- 
spent   tenderness   hedged   round   by   the   imperious 
reserve;  out  he  did  not  like  her  to  know  that  he 
was  watching.    That  brought  a  gleam  of  conscious- 
ness  to  the  face  and  spoiled  the  play  of  lights      It 
was  the  one  fault  he  found  in  his  wife's  beauty 
Anyway,   Tom   Ward   did  not  permit   himself  the 
diversion  of  remembering  his  wife  very  often,  at  all 
io-night,  he  arose,  slightly  annoyed  at  the  inter- 
ruption. 

"Well!"  She  sank  languidly  back  in  the  chair 
tapping  the  grate  fender  with  her  slipper  "Do 
turn  on  more  lights!" 

He  switched  the  ch.ndelier  into  a  bla.e,  pushed 

?romts'cigar."  '"''''  '"'  ''"'"  ""^"'"^  ^'^ 
"Well!"     There    was    the    faintest    lift    to    the 


98 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


arched  brows,  the  faintest  curl  to  the  thin  lips. 
"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me?"  She  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  fire  so  that  the  lights  shone  pink  be- 
tween the  fingers. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Ward.  Why  did  women 
always  want  a  man  to  be  saying  things  that  would 
tickle  their  sensations? 

Mrs.  Ward  waited  just  long  enough  to  compel 
her  husband  to  look  at  her,  which  Ward  considered 
a  great  waste  of  time.  Why  did  women  always 
chop  a  conversation  up  with  long  enough  pauses 
for  a  man  to  dictate  half  a  dozen  letters  to  a  ste- 
nographer? It  was  vanity — that  was  all;  just  to 
make  men  look  at  them.  At  the  same  time  he  ac- 
knowledged that  she  was  worth  looking  at  to-night, 
and  possessing,  always.  The  pallor  had  given  place 
to  two  dull,  red  spots  on  her  cheeks;  and  heavy 
shadows  lay  under  the  eye-lashes.  She  was  saying 
nothing.  Even  her  hands  became  motionless.  There 
was  the  play  of  a  flame  on  her  face  that  might  one 
day  break  out  with — Ward  didn't  know  what.  Why 
did  women  want  to  make  them  happy,  anyway?  He 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  by  way  of  break- 
ing her  reverie. 

"Have  you  forgotten,"  she  asked,  "that  this  is 
the  first  ....  night  home — the  first  night  in  the 
new  house?" 

"Women  think  more  of  houses  and  things  than 
men,  Louie!  The  house  is  all  right!  You've  man- 
aged finely." 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE        99 

"You  know  we  are  to  have  a  reception  for  a 
house-warming?" 

If  the  din  of  a  world  conflict  had  not  been  in 
Wards  ears  he  might  have  heard  the  tremor,  the 
caress  w,th  which  the  words  were  uttered;  but  he 
had  replaced  the  cigar  in  his  teeth  and  was  smok- 
ing with  his  glance  cast  up  to  the  ceiling.  There 
was  that  quick  look  of  scorn  which  Ward  had  seen 
conquer  enemies;  but  his  thoughts  were  far  away 

Zr  hZ^'u'^^  A^u^  1°"^'^  P"''"'-     She  knotted 

her  hands  behind  her  head  with  a  sharp  tapping 

of  the  pointed  slipper  on  the  tiles.  ^      ^t"    ^ 

"Are  those  flowers  from  our  place?"  asked  Ward 

that  h?'  "l'^'"^  ''  '  ''""^'^  '"  ^"  ^°"^g^'  f-ling 
that  he  ought  to  say  something. 

"And  have  you  forgotten  that  the  night  of  the 
reception  will  be  an  anniversary?"  she  asked  lightly. 
What  of?"  Ward  had  begun  pacing.  ''Oh 
our  marriage!  Pshawl  I  didn't  mean  to  offendi 
Wha  are  you  flushing  for?  People  ought  to  get 
■Id  of  fee  ings  m  this  matter  of  fact  age,"  he  apolo- 

1\TL7^T^''-  '7T  '"°^^'  L°"'^'  -hen  men 
get  settled  down  to  the  hum-drum,  life  can't  go  on 

being  a  honeymoon!"     He  did  not  see  his  wife's 

hands  quiver.     He  would  not  have  known  what  he 

had  said  to  cause  it.     Wasn't  it  1  fnrt    ,^0     ■ 
,.,  ,  »»asnt  ir  a  tact,  marriages 

d!d  become  hum-drum?  So  he  blundered  on  "If 
a  woman  has  children,  Louie,  she  hasn't  time  to 
keep  thinking  of  her  own  sensations.  I  have  often 
thought  you  would  have  been  happier  if  you  had 
had  children.     Here  you  are,  with  the  finest  place 


'i  1 


:t 


100 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Do 


of  anyone  I  know,  and,  sometimes,  I  think  you  don't 
get  much  out  of  it." 

Her  arched  brows  lifted.  "Well,  don't  begin  a 
quarrel!  I  hate  what  is  vulgar."  She  could  always 
deal  those  stiletto  stabs.  "It's  a  very  merry  home- 
coming!    It's  a  record  first  nighter!" 

"What  is  she  driving  at?"  thought  Ward. 

"I  was  making  out  the  list  for  the  reception 
you  wish  to  go  over  the  names?" 

Ward  had  put  on  his  coat  and  was  gathering  up 
his  gloves. 

"Names?  Same  people  as  usual,  I  suppose?  In- 
vite no  one  who  is  not  of  advantage  to  you.  Culti- 
vate only  people  who  are  useful,  Louie — that's  my 
rule!  If  you  are  going  to  make  a  house  of  refuge 
out  of  your  drawing-rooms  you'll  get  a  pretty  con- 
glomeration!"   He  paused  at  the  door. 

"But  there  might  be  a  difference  of  opinion  about 
people  of  advantage,"  she  returned,  coming  out  of 
her  reverie.  "For  instance,  there's  your  rubicund 
colonel,  who  put  his  wife  insane  by — we'll  call  it — 
cruelty.  We'll  invite  him,  with  that  young  Mr. 
Truesdale,  because  they  are  directors " 

"Louie,  business — thank  God — isn't  a  ladies' 
.lub!  Dillon  is  an  influential  man.  There  is  no 
call  to  stir  up  rottenness  in  his  private  life.  Pri- 
vate life  is  nobody's  concern " 

"And  what  about  that  young  artist,  the  Miss  Con- 
nor, who  he'  -ed  us  with  the  art  gallery?"  asked 
Mrs.  Ward.    "We  paid  her  barely  a  third  of  what 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE 


lOI 


Will  you  consider  her  a 


her  panels  were  worth, 
conglomeration  ?" 

J7T'!^  ^''■'•.  ^"  '°"''  ^""^  ^y"'  »"d  forehead, 
and  that  sort  of  th,ng?  People  lost  their  money? 
Paints,  doesn't  she?"  demanded  Ward,   depreciat- 

JShe's  a  splendid  creature,"  his  wife  flashed  up. 
It  might  help  her  to  obtain  orders  for  portraits 
■  f  she  were  seen  here!  Money-money-money! 
Self-self-self!  Scramble  for  more!  I'm  tired 
to  death  of  the  life!  I  loathe  it-I  tell  you !  You 
thmk  I  should  be  thankful  to  live  like  a  great  ogling 
doll  1  tell  you-I  loathe  the  pretense  and  the  false 
ness!  Private  life  is  no  concern,  isn't  it?  How 
would  you  like  me  to  live  up  to  that  code?     If  we 

can  t  put  out .-  hand  to  a  deserving  young  girl " 

t>top      .       .   right  ....   there,   Louie!"     He 
closed   the    door   and    came    back    to    the    mantel 
Louie,  now  that  you  have  begun  it  I  want  to  ask 
you  a  question.     Are  you  taking  that  young  girl  up 
for  her  own  sake,  or  Hebden's?"  '        ^  «        ^ 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  hedged,  with  a  smile 
or  contempt. 

"Pshaw!"  Ward  slapped  his  gloves  down  on 
the  mantel,  and  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of  his 
wife  s  chair.  "You  know  very  well,  Louie,  that  I 
trust  you  for  all  time,  anywhere,  under  any  pos- 
sible conditions!  Temptations?— Rot!— There  are 
"0  temptations  for  a  woman  in  your  position  with 
everything  to  lose!  But  I  .  .  .  .  don't 
trust any  man  ...   .  alive!     Understand? 


102 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


I  don't  trust  any  man  alive?  Don't  deceive  your- 
silf!  That's  what  plays  the  mischief  with  you 
women!  We  men  may  wink  when  we  don't  choose 
to  see;  but  we  call  a  spade  ....  a  spade!  But 
you  women  ....  you  women  ....  who  would 
take  to  bed  at  the  sound  of  our  spades  ....  you 
tag  your  emotions  up  with  a  lot  of  high-faluting 
names,  .  .  .  soul,  .  .  .  friendship,  .  .  .  yearnings, 
.  .  .  sympathy,  .  .  .  kindness,  .  .  .  that  sort  of 
thing!  I  declare  it's  like  youngsters  pretending  fire 
doesn't  burn  till  they  get  a  blister!  .  .  .  Then, 
there's  fine  hysterics!  The  hysterics  wouldn't  mat- 
ter! Cold  water  cures  that;  ...  but  look  here, 
Louie,  you  take  my  word  .  .  .  cold  water  doesn't 
wash  out  a  burn!"  He  had  thrown  his  arm  across 
the  back  of  the  chair  and  was  watching  his  wife's 
face  through  half-closed  eyes. 

"What  a  beautiful  theory  of  life,"  she  murmured, 
toying  at  her  rings.  "All  friendship;  tainted!  All 
kindness — cloaked  treachery " 

"Rubbish,"  burst  out  Ward.  "You  women  are  a 
bundle  of  emotions!  You  like  to  be  loved  the  way 
cats  like  to  be  stroked !  It  tickles  your  vanity.  You 
call  it  friendship,  lou  like  to  feel  that  a  word,  .  .  . 
a  look,  ...  a  touch  of  your  hand,  thrills  some  fel- 
low so  life  is  blank  without  you;  but,  the  trouble  is, 
...  the  thing  is  catching!  First  thing  you  know, 
life  seems  flat  without  something  that  other  nerson 
supplies.  You  can't  fool  a  man  any  more  than  he 
can  fool  you,  if  he  plays  the  same  game!  You 
get  him  so  wound  up  that  he's  got  to  find  out  where 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE     103 

you're  at!  He  draws  back,  just  to  see  how  much 
you  11  dare.  Then "  Ward  snapped  his  finger- 
away  you  women  go,  drawn  by  the  cords  of  your 
vanity,  .  .  .  sympathy,  .  .  .  kindness,  .  .  .  friend- 
ship, .  .  .  pshaw!  Next  thing,  both  fools  get  them- 
selves  compromised— talked  about!  Then,  they  ar- 
rive at  the  don't-care  stage;  and,  .  .  .  ihiit, 
as  I  know  men,  ...  is  pretty  close  on  .  .  '.  dan- 
gerous!" 

His  wife  gazed  in  the  fire,  tapping  the  brass  fen- 
der with  her  slipper. 

''I  didn't  know  you  could  be  such  a  philosopher." 
"That's  all  right,"  returned  Ward,  wagging  his 
head,  feelmg  that,  while  he  could  not  foil  her  repar- 
tee, he  could  crush  her  oppositi^  v,ith  a  brutal 
frankness.  It  dawned  on  him  that,  when  a  woman 
arrived  at  the  don't-care  stage,  she  might  be  a  diffi- 
cult argument. 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  me?"  she  asked. 
Ward  hardly  knew  whether  he  wanted  to  kiss  his 
wife  or  to  crush  her.     He  felt  a  something  that  his 
strength,  will,  purpose,  could  not  conquer! 

""*Vhat  I  want  to  know  is  whether  you  invite  that 
artist  girl  here  for  her  own  sake,  or  Hebden's?" 

Again  the  long  pause  without  answering  that  al- 
ways tantal'zed  Ward.  Time  was  money— and 
money  was  power. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  began  slowly,  "I  couldn't  tell 
you  which  it  is  that  I  invite  her  here  for?  She  is 
very  fond  of  me— I  suppose  you  will  say  that  tickles 
my  vanity.     Well,  perhaps  I  like  my  vanity  tickled 


•!  It 


104 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


as  much  as  you  do  your  sense  of  power!  Then  she 
is  so  delightfully  fresh,  so  unspoiled,  that  she  actu- 
ally has  faith  in  people — you  and  me,  for  instance, 
Tom.  I  suppose  you  will  say  that  tickles  me  some- 
where else.  Anyway,"  she  lifted  her  eyelids  disdain- 
fully, "what  have  you  against  young  Hebden?" 

"Against  Hebden?  Well,  Louie,  I'm  not  fond 
of  killing  mosquitoes  with  a  hammer!  Let  me  see: 
...  to  begin  with,  he's  so  small  and  sleek  and  wrig- 
gling in  his  ways  you  can't  follow  him  with  the  naked 
eye  !  Sort  of  snake-in-the-grass,  covering-something- 
up  chap  ...  I  call  him!  Always  oily  and  up- 
and-coming  and  on  the — watch !  He's  a  chap 
wouldn't  say  anything  out  and  out  against  a  woman; 
but  he'd  give  that  sickly  smile  of  his  and  shrug  his 
shoulders  and  raise  his  brows  and  tell  a  whole  book 
of  lies  without  a  word!  He'd  rob  a  woman  of  her 
character  with  his  mincing  ways,  while  he'd  make 
love  to  her  if  she  were  fool  enough  to  listen.  Pos- 
sibly I  sec  things  in  him  that  a  woman  would  not  see 
in  time  to  protect  herself  from  him.  I  like  a  man's 
man — Louie ! 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  continued  Ward  glumly, 
"he  isn't  a  man  among  men." 

"So  much  the  oetter  for  him,  after  all  you  have 
said." 

"Como,  Louie,  this  is  serious!  Hebden  isn't 
worth  a  serious  thought  from  anyone!  Don't  you 
forget  that.  H,;  isn't  worth  a  little  sneer  from  you  " 
Suddenly  he  laid  his  big  head  on  his  wife's  shoulder. 
"Louie,  you  are  a  beautiful  woman;  and  you  know 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE     ,05 

it;  and  you  like  to  hear  about  it-only,  he  careful' 
Do  you  remember  that  night  when  you  were  a  Hirl' 
and  you  and  your  father  rode  into  the  woods,  and  a 
big,  lubberly  fellow  helped  you  to  the  saddle " 

that— -•^°"'' """" '°  *'"  '"'  "^'^  y°"  ^^"« 

"Yes    I  was"  Ward  hurried  on,  as  if  to  parry 
one  of  her  little  stabs.  ^ 

Mrs   Ward  broke  into  a  merry  peal  of  laughter. 
Ihats  your  character,   Louie  I     You've  got  to 
have  a  tram  of  men  dangling  round  with  six-for-a- 
cent  compliments.    Fellows  grease  their  way  to  your 
favor  w,th  flattery  who  are  not  fit  to  blacken  your 
boots.     We  v-e  got  on  pretty  well  without  any  high- 
falutmg  sent.ment-you  and  I,  Louie-but,  listen, 
when  a  man  ,s  not  a  man  among  n,en,  I  don't  care  a 
chuck  whether  he's  artistic,  or  religious,  or  a  supe- 
rior person,  there  is  something  wrong  with  him- 
rotten  at  the  core!    If  you  are  taking  up  that  girl 
for  Hebden  s  sake,  don't  you  deceive  yourself  that 
he  IS  the  man  to  marry  a  penniless  girl  after  the 
course  he  has  run  for  forty  years!     But,  if  you  are 

taking  her  up  to  draw  Hebden  here "  Ward 

paused  thoughtfully. 

''Go  on,"  taunted  his  wife,  smiling. 
"Being  beautiful,  you  are  vain  enough  to  mistake 
a  warnmg  for  jealousy,"  said  Ward;  "but,  if  you 

draw  Hebden  here  for  his  own  sake " 

The  proud  head  lifted.    "What'"  she  demanded. 
Oh— just  that,"  he  answered,  drawing  a  chrysan- 


io6 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


thcmum  from  her  corsage  and  crumpling  it  to  a 
pulpy  mass  with  one  grip  of  his  hand. 

He  passed  out  without  another  word.  She  heard 
the  door  close  as  he  flung  from  the  hall.  She  sat 
motionless,  white,  stonily  unbending  in  her  pride,  as 
he  in  his  power.  He  might  break  her — bend  her, 
he  never  could.  No  regret  st)ftened  her;  no  wonder 
at  the  reason  for  the  man's  rage.  Regret  had  been 
crushed  long  ago,  as  she  felt  her  nature  gradually 
petrifying  under  his  power. 

Whose  fault  was  it?  Ho-.v  came  her  lips  to  utter 
words  that  now  rushed  back  like  the  hiss  of  snakes? 
It  had  been  a  loveless  union.  What  had  love  to  do 
with  Tom  Ward's  creed  of  life?  As  to  that,  she 
had  never  made  even  a  pretense  of  deceiving  herself. 
All  she  knew  was  something  in  her  hungered.  Iliis 
self-centered  existence  was  a  torture.  She  clasped 
her  hands  in  a  long  shudder.  The  canker-worm  of 
an  intense  self-pity  had  begun  to  gnaw. 

The  library  door  opened. 

"Mr.  Hebden,"  announced  a  servant. 

"May  I  come  in?     I  met  Ward  driving  off." 

A  tall,  slender,  ruddy-faced  man  with  reddish 
gray  hair,  receding  forehead,  close-set  brown  eyes, 
and  a  small  chin  came  stepping  lightly  over  the  tiger 
rug.  The  hand  extended  was  white  and  dimpled  like 
a  woman's,  except  that  the  ends  of  the  fingers  were 
stubbed. 

"You  are  in  trouble?"  He  paused  midway  of 
the  rug.  "Surely,  my  good  angel  told  me !  I've 
been  longing  to  see  you  all  day.    What  is  it?" 


WARD'S  NEW  CREED  IN  PRIVATE     107 

.h  T"'!"'"^:!'  ''''  ""'"^  ""'"^'y-  ""'  J=ig"i"g  to  sec 
Mic^hand.       I  vc  only  lost  another  illusion— faith  i„ 

_  And  Mr  Dorval  Mebdcn  turned  that  answer  over 
■n  h,s  mind.  He  had  caught  the  barriers  down  and 
was  not  the  man  to  send  those  barriers  up  by  one 
raise  step.  r     j      >•- 

"Shall!  go?"  he  asked.  "Am  I  one  of  the  men- 
or  may  I  come  under  the  classification  of  an  old 
fnend.  I  only  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  giving 
an  order  for  a  portrait  to  that  artist  protegee  of 
yours,  Miss  Connor." 

He  was  always  so  very  kind,  so  ve.y  sympathetic, 

n„'''TH  K^P'     'ct'"^  '"'"^°"'  '•'•y'"e  it,  was  Mr. 
Dorval  Hebden.    She  d,d  not  answer  at  once.   Then 
she  looked  up  with  the  slow  smile  that  won  her  so 
much  love  and  hate. 
"No— stay,"  she  said. 


CHAITI'.R  VIII 


ward's  rRI.tl)  IN   PRACTICE 


Tf.n  minutes  afterward  Ward  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  little  rencontre  with  his  wife.  It  is  the 
advantage  of  the  active  nature  that  it  never  has  time 
to  curdle.  Ward  was  not  the  man  to  let  a  woman 
obscure  his  aims.  To  be  sure,  he  would  hardly 
treat  a  woman  the  way  he  had  the  dog.  But,  then, 
if  a  butterfly  persists  fluttering  in  your  eyes,  you 
must  brush  it  aside,  whether  you  cripple  the  pretty 
wings  or  not.  That  was  Ward's  sole  philosophy  on 
the  relations  between  men  and  women.  While  his 
wife's  highly  wrought  emotions  were  still  centered 
in  a  sort  of  morbid  enjoyment  of  her  own  wretched- 
ness. Ward's  schemes  for  world  dominion — the 
struggle  that  the  new  century  was  to  witness — were 
taking  more  ilcfuiitc  shape. 

A  very  small  object  of  tenacious  enough  grip  will 
throw  a  train  from  the  track.  With  Ward  it  was 
a  question  of  clearing  obstructions.  There  were 
rivals  a  few  to  be  cleared  from  the  way.  He 
touched  the  tandem  thoroughbreds  with  his  whip 
and  the  sleigh  cut  the  park  driveway  in  a  fashion 
that  bounced  the  coachman  up  and  down  on  the 
io8 


WARD'S  CRfFD  IN  I'KACl  IC  .     ,09 

rear  scat.  Ihc  ni;-ht  air  was  keen.  Vard  felt  the 
race  of  buoyant  lif.  in  his  veins.  The  park  road 
was  clear.     He  gave  the  glossy  bays  full  rein. 

"f.ct's  see  what  you  can  do,"  he  said. 
The  bays  shot  out  long-necked,  clean-footed, 
straight  as  arrows  to  the  mark.  He  could  feel  the 
sensitive  mouths  quivering  as  he  tightened  rein  It 
was  a  poetry  of  swift  motion.  They  raced  for  love 
of  the  race— fierce,  not  at  tightening  rein,  but  slack- 
ening pace,  with  sheer  abandon  to  the  impulse  of 
superabundant  life. 

"Sec— their  feet  scarcely  touch  ground!  That's 
something  like  it— it  docs  them  good,"  cried  Ward. 

"Ves,  sir,"  gasped  the  coachman,  bouncing  up  and 
down. 

One  touch  of  the  whip  sent  the  snow-laden  ever- 
greens  pn.t  in  a  blur.  A  dog  set  up  a  howl  but 
stopped  to  scramble  from  the  way. 

''That's  a  good  sign,"  laughed  Ward. 

"Yes,  sir,"  hiccoughed  the  coachman,  as  the 
sleigh  broke  silence  on  a  deserted  city  square. 

"The  cars,"  warned  the  man  in  a  bounce. 

A  policeman  turned  to  look. 

"It's  all   right,"  called  Ward. 

"You're  driving  too  fast,"  saluted  the  officer. 

"Why  don't  you  catch  them?"  Ward  laughed 
back. 

The  thoroughbreds  took  the  bit  in  their  mouths 
and  kept  the  pace.  With  a  quick  twist  first  to  right 
then  to  left  Ward  reined  the  horses  back  before  a 
massive  twenty-story  structure  of  gray  stone.   Fling- 


no 


THE   NET    DAWN 


ing  the  lines  down  he  was  out  before  the  coachman 
could  grasp  the  bridles. 

"Al'ys  somc'n  up  when  'e  drives  so  fierce,"  ob- 
served that  functionary. 

Above  the  pillared  entrance  of  the  building  stood 
the  figure  of  a  colossal  man  on  a  stone  globe  carved 
in  bas-relief.  Ward  had  insisted  on  having  the  man 
carv-d  on  top  instead  of  below.  'I'o  the  architect's 
obji  'on  that  the  design  violated  tradition  Ward 
had  responded,  "Never  mind  tradition!  I'll  make 
a  new  story  for  the  old  globe  before  I  finish  1" 

When  a  man  has  not  wasted  one  second  for  thirty 
years,  and  has  sold  c\ery  second  of  thirty  years  to 
the  highest  bidder  for  hands  and  brains,  and  has 
not  given  one  second  of  thirty  years  to  the  service 
of  any  soul  but  Self,  he  can  usually  show  results. 
Ward  could  show  very  tangible  results.  They  were 
mainly  eml)odied  in  an  organization  called  "The 
Great  Consolidated."  Though  the  Great  Consoli- 
dated guided  legislation  and  business  on  two  conti- 
nents, it  wai  not  definitely  known  just  what  the 
Great  Consolidated  meant.  Some  said  it  was  "a 
trust" ;  but  that  was  disproved  by  a  law  suit  in 
which  the  members  of  the  trujt  melted  into  such 
thin  air  that  they  could  not  be  found.  Others  said 
it  stood  for  "a  secret  understanding  amo.ig  gentle- 
men." If  that  were  so,  Thomas  Ward  was  the 
only  gentleman  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  the  secret 
until  such  time  as  the  results  materialized  to  daz/.lc 
a  gaping  public.  The  name  arose  from  the  gray 
stone  building  which  housed  the  Consolidated  Rail- 


WARD'S  CREED  IN  PRACTICE     ni 

roads,  the  Amalgamated  Coal  Companies,  and  the 
Intcrnatumal  Steamship  Pool.  If  more  credit  is 
due  him  who  climbs  from  the  bottom  of  the  ladder 
than  one  who  begins  half  way  up.  very  great  rrcdit 
was  due  Tom  Ward.  Me  had  come  a  long  way  in 
these  thirty  years.  It  is  the  first  thousand  feet  that 
stretch  the  unused  muscles  of  the  mountain  climber 
and  give  fettle  for  the  rest  ot  the  day.  So  the  first 
fifteen  years  tested  the  mettle  of  Ward.  They  were 
years  of  hard  work,  and  underpay,  and  night  study 
—not  of  books,  but  of  things— experiments  to  im- 
prove the  machinery  on  which  he  worked  Ward 
used  to  say  that  "the  first  fifteen  yenrs  were  mainly 
on  the  pirpcndicular." 

One  morning  the  world  awakened  to  find  that  the 
young  workman  had  become  president  of  the  ship 
yards'  company.     After  that  Ward's  progress  was 
not  a  chmb;  it  was  a  march.     The  newspapers  were 
still  drawing  inspiration  from  his  life  when  he  as- 
tonished the  public  by  combining  half  a  dozen  mines 
and  smelters  and  steamship  lines  into  one  company 
with  a  capital  that  turned  brains  dizzy.    That  capi- 
tal stood  for  all  that  ihe  smelters  ever  had  done  or 
ever   could   do,    all    the   equipment   they   had   ever 
needed  or  ever  could  need    and  for  a  great  deal 
more,  which  was  not  explained  to  the  public,  except 
as  a  rare  chance  for  that  public  to  buy  stock.     The 
public   seized   that    rare   chance    with    both   hands. 
U  ard  had  no  difficulty  in  promptly  converting  all 
his  stock  into  coin.    The  public  helped  him.    It  was 
eager.     1  le  preferred  the  coin.     The  ethics  of  the 


112 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


thing  did  not  concern  the  public — all  the  public 
cared  for  was  the  glaring,  enviable  fact  that  the 
transaction  left  Ward  with  millions  .  .  .  millions! 
The  public  wanted  a  try  at  that  sort  of  thing.  Tom 
Ward  offered  the  public  that  try. 

Two  doors  led  from  the  main  hall  to  Ward's 
office.  One  was  marked  "General  Business"  and 
the  other  "Private  Secretary."  Both  were  frosted, 
with  screens  of  netting  inside,  so  that  nothing  could 
be  seen  from  the  hallway;  but  in  the  frosting  of 
the  general  office  was  a  scratch  no  longer  than  a 
pen  point.  Opposite  this  Ward  paused.  He  could 
hear  voices  in  a  low  tone.  Passing  to  the  next  door 
I  e  had  entered  so  suddenly  that  a  little,  yellow-faced 
man  sprang  up  nervously.  At  the  exact  moment  of 
the  president's  entrance  the  secretary  had  been  fig- 
uring the  profits  of  their  last  "deal."  Ward  passed 
to  the  inner  office.  Obadiah  Saunders  stroked  his 
black  beard  thoughtfully,  rubbed  a  thin  hand  across 
hi^  arched  black  brows,  and  again  drew  two  long 
fingers  through  his  silky  beard.  That  trick  of  the 
hands  had  given  him  the  sobriquet  of  "Silky"  among 
the  messenger  boys  of  the  basement.  The  desk 
clerks  had  another  nickname  for  the  secretary  from 
a  habit  he  had  of  oiling  his  palms.  They  called  him 
"Lady  Macbeth,"  which  was  unjust  to  Obadiah 
Saunders.  His  hands  were  only  expressing  an  inno- 
cent desire  to  oil  the  wheels  of  things.  The  bu-r-r 
of  an  electric  bell  sounded  on  Saunders'  desk.  The 
secretary  responded  by  stepping  softly  into  the  pres- 
ident'o  office.     Ward  was  in  a  swing-chair  with  his 


WARD'S  CREED  IN  PRACr.'CE      1,3 

back  to  the  door,  both  hands  punched  down  his 
trousers  pockets.  Obadiah  Saunders  softly  shifted 
from  one  foot  to  the  other.  Then  he  drew  two  long 
hngers  through  his  silky  beard. 

"Others  put  in  appearance  yet?"  demanded 
Ward. 

"Both  gentlemen  have  been  in  the  board  room 
for  half  an  hour."  Saunders  glanced  furtively  from 
the  Hoor  and  back  to  the  floor. 

"How  did  you  find  'cm?"  Ward  wheeled  right 
about.  ° 

Saunders  oiled  the  backs  of  his  hands  with  alter- 
nate palms,  then  glanced  from  the  floor  and  back 
to  the  floor. 

"Colonel  Dillon  may  be  written  down  safe— abso- 
lutely  safe !  He  will  bring  the  ship  yards'  companies 
mto  an  ocean  pool." 

"Yes,  your  moderate  men  always  choose  the  safe 
side,"  mterrupted  Ward. 

"When  there  are  millions  on  the  safe  side,"  in- 
terjected the  secretary. 

"Oh,  yes;  that's  th^  way  of  your  moderates,  your 
safe  and  easy  n,en  When  the  shark  and  sword-fish 
have  had  the.r  fight,  tuckered  out— small  fry  sail  in 
to  steal  a  meal !"  ^ 

.<  }"  !"''  T"^  '^^  secretary  balked  at  that  word 
/".    r  ^°  .fy  '^'  '^"^'-  if  "'•■'s  "not  judicious"; 
and^  judicious'  sounded  the  key-note  of  the  secre- 
tary s  ambidextrous  morality. 

"Anybody  could  guess  that  Dillon  would  choose 
the  safe  side,"  continued  Ward,  taking  out  his  cigar 


114 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


case.  "But  how  about  the  young  fellow,  Truesdale, 
who  is  just  back  from  Europe  to  manage  affairs 
of  the  coal  carriers?" 

Saunders  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other, 
then  glanced  from  the  floor  and  back  again.  "You 
can  hardly  say  he  resembles  Dillon,"  began  the  sec- 
retary tentatively.     "He's  not  outspoken." 

"Close-mouthed  proposition,  eh?" 

"Yes  .  .  .  yes,"  the  secretary  studied  the  carpet, 
"but  the  sort  of  mouth  to  take  the  bit  and  .  .  .  and, 
in  fact,  .  .  .  bolt!"  and  Obadiah  p:ianced  up  from 
the  carpet. 

"Sort  of  chap  to  bolt  and  smash,  ...  eh? 
Well,  ...  he  can  have  all  the  smash  h;  wants! 
Has  Dillon  been  sounding  him?" 

An  oily  smile  exuded  from  the  secretary's  sallow 
skin. 

"Dillon,  sir,  paints  prospects  to  beat  a  gold 
mine !" 

"And  what  does  the  young  chap  say?" 

"He  offers  Dillon  a  cigar." 

"He  does,  does  he?  Then,  .  .  .  he'll  do!  Show 
'em  in,"  ordered  the  president. 

"But  there's  something  else,"  interposed  the  sec- 
retary. "There  is  another  reason  why  we  should 
come  to  an  understanding  with  this  young  man." 

"You  mean  there  may  be  a  strike  since  we  re- 
duced wages?"  asked  Ward  sharply. 

"No,  sir."  Saunders  lowered  his  voice  and 
glanced  furtively  behind  him. 

"It's  the  accident  in  Shaft  lO,  when  the  men  were 


WARD'S  CREED  IN  PRACTICE     115 

killed!  Kipp,  the  engineer,  warned  us  of  that  acci- 
dent  " 

"Haven't  you  settled  all  the  claimants?" 

"All  but  this  Kipp  fellow!  He's  holding  out  for 
a  higher  price !     He  might  make  trouble  1" 

"Well,  we  don't  object  to  trouble,  Saunders! 
No  man  need  think  he'll  chase  the  devil  round  a 
stump  with  me " 

"It  isn't  that!"  The  secretary  moved  a  step  for- 
ward. "When  Kipp  examined  Shaft  10,  where  the 
bottom  fell  out  of  le  mine,  he  found  we  had  gone 
a  hundred  yards  into  Truesdale's  ground.  You 
know  his  mines  supply  these  foreign  colliers.  I 
had  suspected  all  along;  but  this  fellow  Kipp — the 
engineer — knows !" 

It  was  not  the  fact  that  the  Great  Consolidated 
had  encroached  on  Truesdale's  mines  that  troubled 
the  secretary.  It  was  that  Kipp  knew.  After  which 
announcement  Obadiah  shifted  from  one  foot  to 
the  other,  raised  his  glance,  and  drooped  his  glance, 
and  stood  a  picture  of  patient  grief. 

"Confound  the  fellow,"  blurted  Ward.  "I  am 
not  prepared  to  admit  what  you  say ;  but  we'll  fill  her 
up — do  you  understand?  We'll  jam  Shaft  10  tight 
to  the  top!  Have  that  done  to-morrow!  Show 
Dillon  and  Truesdale  in!" 


CHAPTER    IX 


MORE   OF    WARDS   CREED   IN    PRACTICE 


Ward  lighted  a  cigar  as  the  secretary  threw  open 
a  heavy  oak  door  with  a  Jelt  dummy  to  prevent  ob- 
servation. The  great  man  did  not  rise  to  welcome 
his  visitors.  He  was  enveloped  in  wreaihs  of 
smoke,  through  which  the  half-closed  eyes  took  keen, 
quick,  complete  measure  of  his  men.  The  first  was 
rubicund,  rotund,  so  corpulent  that  liis  flesh  shook 
and  gave  the  absurdly  small  feet  a  waddling  mo- 
tion. Age  had  added  to  the  waist-line  and  taken 
from  the  worthy  Colonel's  hair  since  first  Tom 
Ward  had  met  him  that  night  long  ago,  when  the 
ship  yards'  president  and  his  friends  had  ridden  al- 
most on  the  top  of  a  ragged  youth  in  blue  overalls 
sitting  in  the  woods  by  the  sea.  Whimsically 
Ward's  mind  flashed  back  to  that  night  when  he 
bargained  for  a  place  on  the  first  ru"  g  of  the  lad- 
der. He  had  ascended  that  ladder  and  many  lad- 
ders above  that  one,  and  now  he  was  about  to  essay 
the  last  climb  to  a  world  ascendancy — to  a  place  of 
power  from  which  he  and  his  American  associates 
could  dominate  the  commerce  of  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth.    Why  had  Uncle  Sam  built  the  Panama 


MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED       117 

Canal  ?    Was  it  to  help  the  commercial  needs  of  the 
United  States  on  all  the  Seven  Seas?     Ward  knew 
that,  apart  from  a  few  coasters,  Uncle  Sam  would 
not  have  a  dozen  ships  of  his  own  to  go  through 
the  vaunted  waterway.     Could  he  hut  organize  in  a 
copper-nveted  union  all  the  ship  yards  and  railways 
and  coal  supply  companies  along  with  two  or  three 
weak,  independent  steamship  lines,  then,  by  joining 
small  foreign  steamship  pools,  he  would  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  give  those  "big  fellows"  abroad  a  twister 
that  would  teach  them  not  to  jack  up  rates  against 
Amer     .n  commerce,   not  to  act  as  bandits  of  the 
high   seas   to  prevent  the  expansion    of  American 
shipping.     Dillon  would  fall  in,  of  course— he  was 
ship  yards.    Also,  he  represented  steel.     Both  would 
benefit  from  the  growth  of  an  American  marine- 
but  there  was  the  uncertain  factor  of  this  young  fel- 
low Truesdale,  whose  mines  supplied  the  foreign 
colliers   in   American   ports.      If   Truesdale's   little 
mines  and  little  tubs  of  coal  ships  didn't  come  in— 
that  would  give  an  advantage  to  the  big  ship  pools 
abroad.      Of    course,    Truesdale    must    simply    be 
forced  in— that  was  Ward's  verdict.    Where  had  he 
seen  the  young  fellow  before,  anyway?     What  was 
it  about  him  brought  back  that  night  when  he  had 
first  seen  his  wife  and  helped  her  as  a  little  girl  up 
into  the  saddle?    Could  it  be  possible!  was  this  the 
man  grown  from  the  b  yy  whon.  he  had  seen  at  the 
president's  house  years  ago,  when   two  boys  were 
setting  off  for  schooling  in  Europe? 

Through  the  cigar  fumes  Ward  noted  the  swarthy 


m. 


Ii8 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


face  of  a  tall  young  man  with  a  clean-cut  brow,  alert 
black  eyes,  straight  nose,  and  a  chiseled  sharp  chin. 

"Clean-limbed  youngster;  but,  .  .  .  too  light," 
was  the  verdict. 

"I've  just  been  explaining,  .  .  .  just  been  explain- 
ing .  .  .  the  extraordinary  position,  .  .  .  the  ex- 
traordinary advantage,  ...  I  might  say,  ...  of 
the  situation  in,  .  .  .  in  coal  for  Panama  tiafSc," 
wheezed  the  fat  man,  sitting  down  with  some  diffi- 
culty. The  stub  of  a  cigar  in  the  corner  of  the 
pursed  lips,  the  upturned  nose  almost  submerged  be- 
tween the  protruding  checks,  the  chin  creased  and 
rolling,  gave  a  peculiar  porcine  profile. 

Ward  laid  his  cigar  down  and  looked  to  Trues- 
dale.  That  young  man  justified  the  secretary's  re- 
port and  remained  silent. 

"Why,  yes,"  argued  the  colonel,  quite  satisfied 
that  the  other  had  agreed  in  thought,  if  not  in 
speech,  "it's  just  as  I  was  telling  our  friend  here — 
our  young  friend  here — chance  of  a  lifetime."  That 
utterance  having  exhausted  a  second  wind  for  the 
Colonel,  there  was  silence. 

Ward  looked  to  True'dale.  Truesdale  waited. 
There  was  the  faintest  suspicion  of  sarcasm  about 
the  young  man's  immobile  features. 

"Gentlemen,"  Ward's  hand  crashed  to  the  desk 
with  impatience.  He  liked  to  use  "safe"  men;  but, 
in  broad  schemes,  he  preferred  brains.  He  was  ad- 
dressing both  men,  but  he  spoke  directly  to  Trues- 
dale. "If  one  farmer  persists  in  sending  his  pro\'i- 
sions  to  market  by  the  old,  slow  wagon  road,  and 


MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED       119 

another  farmer  sends  his  in  the  express  flyer— it's 
pretty  certain  whi-h  farmer's  provisions  will  reach 
the  market  first;  which  will  bring  the  highest  price  " 
"1  hat's  what,"  nodded  Dillon,  winkir.cr  one  little, 
white  eye. 

"This  is  the  age  when  we  must  either  go  forward 
or  drop  out,"  continued  Ward.  "There  are  too 
many  in  the  game  for  us  to  play  dead  weight,  or  act 
the  welcher!  We've  either  to  get  up  and  run,  and 
run  fast,  or  get  off  the  track,  out  of  the  way.  It's 
that  or  be  run  over!" 

''.  .  .  Or  be  run  over,"  conned  Dillon,  shutting 
both  little  eyes  to  view  the  mental  picture  better. 
"And,  if  all  the  farmers  combined  to  own  the 
railroad,  it  would  be  better  still,"  argued  Ward 
"They  would  get  the  profits  of  the  freight  as  well 
as  the  profits  of  the  market." 

Truesdale  smiled.  The  great  financier's  reason- 
mg  sounded  so  much  like  arguments  in  old  German 
halls,  where  students  drowned  socialism  in  pots  of 
beer,  and  emitted  anarchy  in  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke.  Ward  saw  the  awakening  interest  and  went 
straight  to  the  mark. 

"By  the  strike  in  the  foreign  mines— coal,  silver, 
gold— we  can  control  the  output  of  the  world—;/ 
tve  combine!  We  can  control  the  prices  of  the 
world—;/  Ke  combine!  Railroads  and  steamships 
must  have  coal.  We  can  control  the  foreign  carriers 
of  the  world—//  we  combine!  Once  get  your  grip 
on  the  foreign  steamship  carriers"  -Ward  paused 
to  read  anticipation  in  the  young  man's  face— "Eu- 


I20 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


rope  cannot  grow  all  she  needs.  Get  the  carriers, 
the  transportation,  and  you've  got  possession  of  the 
world's  trade/  For  a  hundred  years  the  foreign 
steamships  have  buncoed  American  commerce.  We 
have  paid  more  to  have  our  traffic  carried  across 
the  Atlantic  than  all  the  captured  nations  of  the 
world  ever  paid  to  Rome.  We  have  been  the  cap- 
tive nation  tied  to  the  golden  chariot  wheel  of  Eu- 
rope. W^e  have  paid  more  to  have  our  traffic  car- 
ried across  the  ocean  than  the  gold  revenues  of  Peru 
sent  of  old  to  Spain.  Why?  Because  we  have  no 
ships.  Because  the  foreign  ships  have  us  buncoed 
and  buffaloed.  Why  are  we  always  short  of  gold 
■n  America  ?  Because  we  have  to  pay  our  freight 
bills  to  foreign  nations  in  gold.  What  have  we  built 
Panama  for?  Apart  from  a  few  coasters,  we 
haven't  an  American  ship  to  send  through  the 
canal.  Gentlemen,  look  at  that  fact  and  stop  shout 
ing  about  the  achievement  of  building  Panama  1 
We  can  build  a  canal,  but  we  can't  build  a  ship. 
Look  at  that  fact,  and  chew  on  it !  Tell  me  a  single 
U.  S.  ship,  independent  of  the  coasters,  which  are 
owned  by  the  railroads  and  barred  from  the  canal, 
which  can  enter  Panama !  Coasters  don't  expand 
our  commerce  to  foreign  nations  one  dime's  worth. 
All  right — what's  the  situation?  We  have  a  canal, 
the  biggest  achievement  since  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica, and  we  practically  haven't  a  ship  engaged  in 
foreign  trade  to  use  it.  Now,  the  I.  W.  W.'s  have 
brought  about  a  strike  in  all  foreign  coal  mines. 
From  private  information   1  judge  it  is  likely  to 


"^     § 


MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED       ,a, 
last  a  year.    Gentlemen,  do  you  see  where  that  ffiv« 
Z  ''■'  -^  p-^-dle?    It  gives  us  the  advant  "etc 
fore.gn  sh.ps  for  the  first  time  in  a  hundred  year. 
If  our  sh,p  yards  get  together  with  our  coal  mine  " 
where  are  the  foreign  ships  to  get  coal  ?    The  pow^; 

W^rthe    V"f  r'  '''  ^--P-tation'  Ji 
draw  al    the  gold  of  the  world  to  its  pocket.     By 

nmJ-     1        ^'PP^"'"8    "°«-'  •   •   •   It's    happening 

"o  IvThe'  T"  "'^'  '='"'=  "•''''  '^'^  clenched'fist- 
only  the  returns  are  spread  among  a  dozen  dif 
ferent  companies !  What  I  propose  is  that  "e  com 
b  ne  now,  when  the  foreign  depression  gives  us  tJl 
advantage-combine  now-.„^  ,/,,  ,,lj,  „"/  ^ 
^orld,s  ,n  yonr  hands!     Bar  fuel,  and  v.here  a  e 

o    mg    actones?     Control   fuel  and  y'ou  con7o 

Get  hnl.         ■r'/'^f  "■"'■'''  ''^^  ff°'  f°  have  fuel  ! 
Get  hold  of  the  fuel  and  you've  got  the  world  a 
your  own  pnce!    Give  us  control"-he  uttlred  the 

wor..vn^  hronousstrokesofhiscleSS; 

ontne.esk—  give  us  control  .  .   .  of  the  fuel 

TdltTat^"'rr•^''^'^-•'^^'«°'"^- 

price  vl       ^  ^  "'•'■'  8"'"e  '"  P^'y  0"r 

cu  th;oat"hr'l-"'"''7°"  ""^'■•«f='"'l.  without  anv 
cutthroat  hagglmg  and  competition!  The  foreim 
stnkes  g,ve  us  the  whip-handle-//  ..  .„;i;;:;^'^" 
Its  a  b,g  proposjtion-it's  a  big  proposition!" 
wagged  h-Ta'd^"^^"'^  ^"'^  ""'^  ^^''^  ^^"  -<^ 


122 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


The  young  man  sat  suddenly  erect.  Ward  leaned 
back  to  let  the  incoherent  suggestions  work.  Not 
what  he  had  said,  but  what  he  had  left  unpaid, 
startled  Truesdale. 

"You  mean,"  said  the  young  man,  "by  combining 
steamships  and  coal  mines  in  America,  to  reach  out 
.  .  .   and  make  a  bid  for  the  markets  of  Europe?" 

"If  you  like  to  put  it  that  way,"  returned  Ward 
cautiously.  "The  thing  has  happened  already  with 
oil,  and  steel,  and  machinery  1  The  question  is  not 
whether  the  thing  is  going  to  take  place ;  the  question 
is,  who  is  going  to  do  it?  If  we  don't,  some  other 
combination  will!  The  world  is  America's  market. 
Steamships  are  the  toll-gate  to  that  market.  We've 
got  to  capture  and  hold  that  market!" 

"Why,  man,"  said  Truesdale,  leaping  up,  "it 
means  ...  it  means  the  transfer  of  gold  reserves, 
of  world  power,  to  .  .  .  America!" 

"And  wc  .  .  .  are  America,"  corrected  the  head 
of  the  Great  Consolidated. 

"//  we  combine,"  interjected  the  colonel  ha2:ily. 
"Seems  to  me.  Ward,  we're  sort  o'  bitin'  off  more 
than  we  can  chew  .  .  .  more  than  we  can  chtw ! 
I'm  not  in  these  big  schemes  because  of  their  size," 
avowed  the  fat  man.  "Count  me  out!  I'm  looking 
after  number  one  1  All  I  see  in  this  thing  is  a  chance 
...  a  chance,  as  I  was  telling  Truesdale  ...  to 
get  our  heads  together  ...  to  get  our  heads  to- 
fernal  I 


gethe 


1  stop  I 


nfe 


;mg  I 


jntry 


by  foreign  freig.ts!  Now  that  foreign  trade  is  crip- 
pled, prices  for  coal  and  ocean  freight  arc  going 


MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED       ,,3 

lVl7s{,Ht  ■  ""'7  '"  '""'7  P^''"  «-■«  clean 
Ka  our  heads  together.  .   .  .  as  I  was  telling  W 

True«Hil#.  •.'     L      ''   •  •  •   as    1    was    telling 

'IS   1   was  t'.-lling    Iruesilalc" fl,„  ^1       ,■     .. 

eyesbIinkeU-"kV   "  f^r''''  ^°'°""^  '  ''«I«= 
know  •  "^  ^'"'  "°  monkeying,  you 

know    .  no  cutting  prices  on  the  sly,  „" 

smart  tr.cks  ,n  this  thing,  ^r  r«„  .,*  ,,,;!    u'e  'like 

cap  votes!     I  m  not  out  to  conquer  Europe, 
,   •   •   and  glory,   .  .  .   and  that  sort  of  thing!     It' 

than   f  I  m  underselling  you;  and  you're  doing  a  lit 
tie  rate-cutting  on  the  sly;  and  so  onl"    Th    colonel" 

';::  ^^''it";:;^''"'' "-'''' ''-  ^--^  ^-^^ 

iterated.  ^orse-sense  and  business,"  he  re- 

The  splendor  of  Ward's  daring  schemes  for  world 


124 


THE    NliW    DAWN 


power,  wurlil  dominion,  took  on  a  diltcrcnt  aspect, 
seen  throu^^h  tiic  itn;i(;lnation  of  the  oi^iing  man  with 
the  whcc/.y  voice.  Ward  liad  outlined  the  ambi- 
tions of  an  empir:-builder.  Dillon  put  he  case  in 
terms  of  the  dollar  bill.  It  had  such  curious  re- 
semblance to  the  predictions  of  those  old  star  dream- 
ers in  the  German  universities  that  Truesdale  again 
heard  their  prophecies — foreshadowing  the  greatest 
conflict  of  all  ages;  perhaps  a  bloodless  war,  but 
the  bitterest  war  of  all,  because  it  would  levy  tribute 
on  all  nations;  tribute  of  freight  rates  on  food  and 
warmth  and  clothing,  from  women  and  children  as 
well  as  men,  from  weaklings  as  well  as  fighters, 
from  all  the  countries  of  the  world !  It  was  sublime 
in  daring,  but  as  pitiless  as  the  campaign  of  a  pagan 
conqueror;  but,  then,  since  when  had  war  or  trade 
taken  inventory  of  pity?  Since  when  had  war  or 
trade  taken  inventory  of  right?  It  was  like  nature 
— moving  along  the  linos  of  pitiless  laws — to  (?\ 
unseen  ends,  to,  perhaps,  a  conquest  of  the  world 
by  commerce.  Foreign  ships  were  tied  up  by  a 
strike  in  the  coal  mines  .Tiid  few,  if  any,  of  the  for- 
■^ign  ships  used  oil;  and  what  better  than  for  Amer- 
ica to  launch  her  merchant  marine? 

He  was  well  aware  how  this  grand  scheme  for 
the  capture  of  a  world-dominion  would  work  out 
practically.  It  meant  the  ruin  of  small  coal  dealers 
and  independent  steamships.  It  meant  the  levying 
of  tribute  on  the  many  for  the  aggrandizement  of 
the  few,  just  as  certainly  as  a  Koman  conqueror 
levied  tribute  when  he  conquered  a  nation.     It  meant 


MORE  OF  WARD'S  CREED       ,,5 

that  the  plutocrat,  were  t„  k-come  th.  kin«      u 
meant — what    else?      Tr.,     1  1  •     •  ^       " 

volted  at  fZ  .  ,    V"'^-''''--*    'pagination    re- 

vo  tej  at  the  logical  leading  of  his  thoughts      What 

™,cZ:;;  ,■':■"'•■■  ^vr^'rT'"''" 

tocrats  ?  K""''"'^':  fad  the  people  against  pi,,- 

'Truesdatir"'"'  °'^"*'''"''  ^^"^^  ^""--^d: 
goods  at  t;„,h^°"  ""<=  ^  g-^r  nnd  sold  better 

other  g/ocersTh  JvT"  """'""^  '^  «'^"'-  ^^an 
fhe  „^^  "'=»t  you  captured  all  the  trade    a  'd 

;;i  should  not,"  asserted  Truesdale. 

■Mr.  W„d,"  „„..„J  T„,„J,fc.  ....,,.,  j„  ^„„ 


126 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


propose  to  do?  How  do  you  propose  to  do  this 
thing?" 

Colonel  Dillon  mopped  his  bald  head  again  with 
an  air  of  satisfaction. 

"It's  just  as  I  was  telling  Trucsdalc — he  had  only 
to  hear  your  view  and  he  would  agree  it's  the  chance 
of  a  life-time,  .  .  .  positively,  the  chance  of  a  life- 
time!" It  was  quite  plain  that  Dillon  did  not  in  the 
least  grasp  the  world-policy  of  Ward.  What  Dillon 
saw  was  the  chance  to  levy  tribute  on  world  com- 
merce. 

Outside,  the  telegraph  wires  netted  opposite  the 
office  windows  hummed  and  droned  an  endless  chant 
of  human  effort  compassing  the  globe.  .Alexanders 
and  Napoleons  had  no  such  weapons  as  these  men 
planning  the  campaign  of  a  world-dominion.  Human 
puppets  guided  by  one  directing  brain  had  been  the 
best  weapons  of  old-world  conquerors.  But  these 
campaigners  could  harness  the  seas  and  speed  their 
conquering  armies — of  money,  credit,  wealth — along 
the  track  of  lightnings.  Napoleon  bought  men. 
Ward  was  prepared  to  buy  nations,  not  by  a  bribe, 
but  by  purchase  in  open  iicld  of  steamships,  rail- 
roads, coal.  .'\t  best,  he  uoidtl  be  prepared  when 
he  had  crushed  or  bound  to  himself  a  few  rivals,  of 
whom  Truesdale,  with  his  small  mines  and  coal  tugs, 
was  most  to  be  feared,  because  those  mines  were 
close  to  the  sea  and  independent  of  Ward's  rail- 
roads. 

The  three  men  :lrcw  their  chairs  to  the  presi- 
dent's desk.    There  was  a  jotting  of  pencils,  a  com- 


ta,^- mi 


MORE   OF   WARD'S   CREED        127 

paring  of  totals,  a  monotonous  tick-tick-tick  of  the 
big  clock  inside,  with  the  humming  and  droning  of 
the  wires  outside.  The  secretary  ^'.ded  in  and  out 
with  lists  of  figures,  letting  sli  .<  oi  paper  fall  that 
he  might  linger  to  pick  thcrn  4). 

Once  Ward  threw  down  the  ,  :nril. 

"That  will  realize  fifty  millions  at  once  on  coal 
for  lanama  alone;  and  the  advance  of  fifty  cents 
a  ton  to  finance  steamships  is  so  small  that  the  peo- 
ple will  never  feel  it." 

"Feel  it?"  wheezed  the  old  colonel  aglow  "who 
cares  whether  they  feci  it?  The  question  is-a/// 
the  trade  stand  it?  Will  people  take  to  burning 
wood?  * 


"XVe  can  usually  depend  on  cold  weather  for  two 
months,"  remarked  Truesdale  sarcastically. 

Ward's  eyes  closed  to  a  slit  and  he  looked  at  the 
young  man.  Dillon  threw  off  his  coat  and  sat  for- 
ward perspiring  visibly. 

n/'"\"r?y'  ^'°"  ''"  ''"P  f''«  "fes  up  on  wood, 
\Vard  he  suggested.  "You've  got  the  whip  with 
your  backwoods  railroads  .  .  .  keep  the  wood  off 
the  market,  Ward,   .   .   .  that's  it!" 

The  next  time  the  secretary  was  called  he  let  a 
pencil  fall. 

"As   I  make  it  out,   it's   thirty  millions  to   you, 
i  ruesdale,     Dillon  was  saying. 
Truesdale  was  leaning  back. 

"I  suppose  it  is  perfectly  legitimate,"  he  said  ab- 
sently. 


128 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


And  then  the  secretary  knew,  from  the  lists  that 
he  was  requested  to  bring,  that  what  the  newspapers 
would  call  "a  deal"  was  being  arranged;  that  a  com- 
pany with  a  capital  of  billions  was  to  be  floated. 
The  clock  ticked  on,  ...  on,  ...  on !  The  pencils 
figured  and  figured.  Sweat  trickled  down  the  face 
of  the  fat  man.     His  little  eyes  expanded  greedily. 

"But  .  .  .  but  .  .  .  will  the  public  bite?"  he 
asked  doubtfully.  "Will  they  buy  our  bonds,  then 
buy  the  coal  at  advanced  price,  then  buy  the  stock 
to  float  the  ships." 

"Dillon,"  Ward's  head  went  up  with  a  toss,  "you 
talk  as  if  this  were  a  stock-jobbing  concern !  By 
combining  we  are  absolutely  certain  of  holding  our 
own  against  the  labor  unions  as  well  as  foreign 
rivals.  By  combining  we  are  free  of  waste,  free  of 
under-cutting.  By  combining  we  compel  the  world 
to  depend  on  us  for  ships  and  c  >z\.  They  buy  at 
our  price.  Do  you  think  Investment  in  as  safe  a 
concern  as  that  is  going  to  hang  fire?  The  stock 
will  sell  faster  than  we  can  apply  proceeds !" 

"Look  here,  gentlemen !"  Trucsdale  was  walking 
the  floor.  "We're  shaving  wages !  We're  advanc- 
ing rates!  It  seems  to  me  between  taxing  the  pub- 
lic for  higher  rates  and  asking  them  to  buy  stock 
for  us  to  capture  foreign  markets  through  a  billion- 
dollar  steamship  combination — it  seems  to  me  we 
may  run  up  against  something  called  the  sentiment 
of  the  free-born  American  citizen " 

"Sentiment  be ,"  the  colonel's  husky  remark 


MORE   OF   WARD'S    CREED 


129 


'Ugh.     "Business  isn't  char- 


merged  in  an  explosive 
ity." 

us  _ike  that  corner  store  again.     You'd  sell  for  the 
h.ghest  pr,ce  that  you  could  get,  and  pay  the  lowes 
pnce  you  could  pay-wouldn't  you?'   What's  the 
Merence  between  doing  that  on  a  s„.all  scale  or  on 

''Weirit"  Y'""  '^"''^   '^°-   'he   papers 

Zll'      1?'"'"^  I^te      Think  it  over,  Truesdale! 
thin?  ""'Peihng  you  to  come  into  this 

Whe"„  th  '"  "^"'  '"  ■    ^""'^  "'S^''  gentleme     '' 
v;,V  f''^  f'^^etary  returned  from  showing  the 

r  wi^hV'  f  f^'  ^r"^  ^"""'^  -  'h^  --'•  "g 

on        The     :  u°  '^'  '^°°'-     ^^'  ^'-k  ticked 

chantoft  .   '^xC     '"■"   '^""""^'^   'heir  endless 

aint  r  and    r    ^        7""^  °'  ''^  ^^"'"^  ""  ""g 

over  the  I'^'th"     ,"?"••,    ^^'''^"'sht  quiet  fell 

-nM't^htking?^  '°^'  '-'-'  °-  ^"^  -'"  '»'= 

da^:^V:rs  th"  t  f ' '''  '"'^-^^  -^  '^-«- 

tn  ..,      !        u  "  '"""""^  "■^'^  profitable  was 

o  St  out  on  that  course  forthwith  !     That  had  b  en 
U  ard  s  rule  smce  he  left  tho  „l,^  1,  r 

potency  and  failure.     Sec  Vrhi,:;'  '  "''l.t  Z"-- 
^.ghtest   bungling  now   and   the' chan-ce' ..olid 
cjomuuon    m,ght   be   lost!      Ward   would   taL   It 

"Saunders!" 


I30 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


The  ferret  eyes  of  the  secretary  looked  up,  and 
then  looked  down. 

"Saunders?" 

"Sir?" 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  chap  Truesdale? 
Think  he  will  come  in?" 

Obadiah  stroked  his  beard  thi,ughtfully. 

"I  can't  imagine  any  young  fellow  of  sense  hold- 
ing out  against  that  offer,"  he  returned. 

"Then  you  are  deficient  in  imagination,"  retorted 
Ward.  "You  are  judging  that  man  by  yourself  1  In 
the  first  place,  he's  iiidiffcitnt  to  money.  He  is  also 
indifferent  to  powe.-.  He  doesn't  lack  will!  He 
doesn't  lack  strength  of  an  obstinate  kind;  but  I 
doubt  if  he  has  purpose!  And  he  is  s^ill  in  the  bib- 
and-tucker  stage,  when  a  young  fellow  is  troubled 
with  a  conscience !  Get  him  buckled  down  to  prac- 
tical living,  he'll  get  over  that." 

Again  a  long  silence,  broken  only  by  the  ticking 
of  the  clock. 
"Saunders?" 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"Go  to  that  labor  leader,  McGee,  the  ranting 
red,  you  know,  who  is  threatening  a  strike  in  our 
coal  mines  about  the  cut  in  wages.  Pay  whatever  is 
necessary  to  win  Truesdale's  men  to  the  union. 
Understand?  If  our  men  strike,  his  men  strike,  too! 
He  can't  afford  to  stand  back!  He's  got  to  be  in 
this  fight,  for  us  or  against  us !" 

Saunders  wrote  a  note  on  a  small  writing  pad. 
"Saunders?" 


MORE   OF  WARD'S   CREED 


131 


<-/o  to  the  R    V    D--I        .. 

f°  charge  hi.  schedule    ^f      '{"^'^  f  "°^  ""'^ 
land-they  are  to  han  I  shipments  in- 

charge  ,,L  ^f^^l"^  °X^^  ^°  -  ^H  the  extra  they 

■  ••  understand?  Get  tt  7  '  ^?  '"  ^'"^  C-  «• 
our  shipments,  and  th  v^Mh  TV'^^''"^  ^°^ 
give  us  a  record  of  hi?     •  '^''  ''•     '^'^^^  ^^ill 

where!     Then  send  .'Ir"'''  '^°"  "'-''  «"d 
-entsgo;    Shave  his'p       f  ":?■;  "'^"^  '^'^  ''''P" 
his  salesmen  off  the  fidd'n         ^"'^^  ^"^^     Squeeze 
Saunders  stood  as  one  petrified. 

holds  a'bar:7;.r:ro;?h   '  ""'"^^^'"'^  ■^-"'^^Je 

f reat  Consohu.;:;;!"  ^  tnThr/i-^r''  ^"^ 

take  some  more  '     The  r.  .  •  ^'""''  ^^  "uld 

vestors-women  and  nrn f  •"  '^^"^'"ed-small  in- 
who  think  they  arTlT  r°;!:^'  "^"-°'d  ^og-s, 
fashioned  and'Jn  ^..V.f  t'^k'^'^r^  '  ''^  °''^- 
stock!  Give  the  New  York  fl^  \'"  ''  '^'' 
orders  to  pick  up  on  tL  quit  2elT'  ''^"''"^ 
•'1e  Jambs  take  fright  I  Sel  Ih  ^P^'^f'^'^^'ne  till 
stand,  till  the  stock  knnf  I  ?"'    ^'"'  y^"  ""d^r- 

J— -I  am  afraid "  be^n,,  .u 

"egan  the  secretary. 


132 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Saunders,"  interrupted  Ward,  "we'll  sue  first! 
Get  that  tunnel  filled  up — come  to  me  for  orders !" 

The  secretary  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  carpet. 

"But  the  Kipp  fellow,  the  engineer?"  he  stam- 
mered. 

"Wants  more  salary,  I  suppose,"  added  Ward. 

"Wants  more  silary,"  repeated  the  secretary,  as 
though  he  deprecated  such  criminal  tendencies. 

"Confoundedly  unlucky,  that  whole  business  of 
the  accident  1" 

Obadiah  stroked  his  beard. 

"You  have  settled  all  the  claimants?" 

"All." 

"Only  that  engineer?" 

"Only  that  engineer." 

"What  did  his  report  say  about  the  shaft?" 

"That  there  would  be  loss  of  life  unless  we  re- 
paired it." 

"And  you  dismissed  him?" 

"I  dismissed  him." 

",\nd  reengaged  him  at  five  thousand  to  keep  him 
quiet?" 

"I  did." 

Ward  bounced  suddenly  round  in  his  chair,  facing 
the  secretary. 

"He  demands  more  salary?  That's  it — is  it? 
Can't  you  send  him  to  Mexico  to  examine  coal  Imids 
somewhere  ....  where  the  climate  might  in  .uce 
him  to  remain?" 

"Wc  might  sen<l  him  to  Jericho,  if  he'd  go."'   The 


MORE   OF   VVAKD'S    CKliED         133 

secretary  lowered  his  voice.  "But  he  says  it's  better 
pay  to  stay  .  .  .   right  .   .  .  here  I" 

The  clock  ticked  five  full  minutes  before  the  presi- 
dent spoke. 

"What  do  you  think  he  will  do?" 

"Sell  his  information  about  our  tunneling  into 
Truesdale's  ground." 

"I  have  no  doubts  that  we'd  win  if  it  did  go  to 
the  courts,"  returned  Ward.  "It's  better  to  keep 
him  quiet  till  we've  arranged  with  TruesdaJe.  We'll 
have  to  settle  him!" 

"Yes— we'll  have  to  settle  him,"  agreed  the  sec- 
retary. 

"Saunders,  it's  a  funny  thing  that  I  have  to  be 
bothered  with  these  annoyances?" 

Obadiah  assented  with  a  dejected  hanging  of  his 
head. 

"Why  can't  these  petty  trifles  be  arranged  with- 
out bothering  me?" 

It  was  a  current  understanding  in  the  Great  Con- 
solidated that  Ward  gave  few  orders  to  his  em- 
ployees; but,  if  they  made  mistakes,  he  gave  them 
ticket  of  leave  and  orders  in  terms  that  are  not  usu- 
ally printed.  "He's  coming  to  it  by  running  all 
around  it,"  thought  the  secretary. 

"Here's  a  staff  of  men  supposed  to  have  more 
brains  than  a  hen;  and  they  can't  settle  a  swagger- 
mg  braggart  of  an  engineer?" 

If  Thomas  Ward  had  been  told  that  he  coerced 
his  men  into  doing  what  he  himself  dared  not  do- 
he  would  have  denied  it.    Obadiah  took  the  cue. 


134 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"If  the  Great  Consolidated  will  give  me  a  free 
hand  I  think  I  can  promise  to  settle  the  fellow," 
he  said. 

"You  do,  eh?  Then  settle  him!  Don't  report 
to  me!  I  leave  the  affair  to  you!  I  hold  you  re- 
sponsible! Lose  the  papers,  if  there  are  any;  burn 
them.  But  tell  me  nothing — do  you  understand — 
absolutely  nothing.  If  you  want  a  check  to  send  him 
to  Peru,  draw  on  the  contingency  fund." 

An  oily  exudation  spread  over  the  secretary's  sal- 
low features. 

"I'll  take  a  run  down  to  the  mines  and  see  him 
myself,"  he  said. 

And  that  was  all  about  Kipp,  the  engineer,  who 
knew  that  the  Great  Consolidated  had  been  taking 
coal  from  Truesdale's  mines  through  running  a  slant 
tunnel  into  a  neighbor's  limits. 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  CRKED  AND  A  GIRL 

"So  that  was  the  reason  you  stopped  writing?    It 
was  hardly  fair  to  a  pal,  Madeline  ?" 

Truesdale  could  not  have  explained  why  the  ar- 
tist  sitting  at  her  easel  seemed  different  from  other 
acquaintances.  She  was  good  looking,  but  not  better 
looking  than  many  a  woman  of  his  acquaintance; 
and  she  was  obviously  quite  indifferent  to  all  mat- 
ters  of  dress  Theoretically,  he  liked  a  well-gowned 
woman  of  the  ornamental  kind.  He  liked  what 
pleased  his  eye,  his  sense  of  proportion,  his  pride 
ot  lite.  Woman  was  to  be  the  jewel,  the  star  shin- 
■ng  out  on  the  hard  realities  of  men's  lives.  He  had 
not  a  high  opinion  of  the  motives  behind  men's 
lives.  He  considered  all  conduct  the  result  of  one 
primal  instinct— Self ;  and  self  can  assume  brutal 
torms  in  the  strenuous  battle  of  modern  life  and 
primal  passions.  That  was  why  Truesdale  wanted 
woman  to  be  a  jewel  set  apart— the  prize  of  exist- 
ence; not  a  contestant  in  the  brute  struggle,  where 
she  must  suffer  defeat. 

All  that  was— in  theory.     In  reality,  Truesdale 
was  sitting  in  a  plain  studio  at  the  rear  of  an  art 
135 


'36 


IHE    Nl'W    nWVN 


»Lalcr's  store,  asking  why  a  girl  dressed  in  a  white 
shirtwaist  and  black  walking  skirt,  with  a  red  tie 
and  leather  belt,  had  broken  off  a  correspondence 
on  which  he  had  grown  to  depend  more  than  he 
liked  to  acknowledge. 

A  woman  could  ha\  e  told  Trucsdale  that  the  rar- 
est jewels  shine  brightest  in  simplest  settings;  that, 
while  the  dress  was  plain,  it  was  set  to  the  curves 
of  a  figure  whose  every  motion  betokened  buoyant, 
free  life — fire,  not  grace;  that  the  red  tie  brought 
out  the  red  tints  of  the  hectic  skin;  and,  that  the 
bronze  hair  with  sunlight  in  each  strand  did  not 
need  the  art  of  the  French  hair-dresser. 

But  Truesdale  did  not  analyze  things.  He  felt 
them — felt  the  unr'tmdcd  light  of  the  brow,  the 
glad  surprise  of  the  eyes,  the  wondering  flashes  of 
comprehension  from  the  large  pupils  of  the  gray 
eyes.  It  was  a  changing,  lustrous  pupil,  that  seemed 
to  give  glimpses  of  a  personality.  Self-deception 
could  not  exist  behind  those  eyes.  They  were  too 
clarified.  This  girl  could  not  even  lie  to  herself, 
the  rarest  kind  of  truth. 

Mentally,  Truesdale  questioned  the  wisdom  of 
nature  forming  a  mouth  the  shape  of  a  Cupid's 
bow,  and  giving  that  mouth  the  short  upper  lip  of 
a  Diana.  The  effect  was  a  Psyche  profile  with  the 
coldness  of  a  Puritan.  She  would  be  a  huntress;  not 
of  men — but  ideas.  Truesdale  was  quite  positive 
that  he  did  not  like  women  who  hunted  ideas;  yet  he 
could  not  help  thinking  if  this  Psyche  profile  ever 
met  its  ideas  in  the  form  of  a  man  it  might  not  be 


tul;  cKi:t;D  and  a  girl      137 

such  a  bad  tiling  t.,  I,c  tlit-  man— provi.lcJ,  of  a.ursc, 
that  her  ideas  ilid  ridt  prove  an  illusion. 

lor  a  week  after  the  conferences  in  the  otfites  of 
the  Great  Consolidated  Iruesdale  was  subtly  con- 
snous  of  a  chanse  in  the  attitude  of  the  social  and 
business  world  toward  himself.  Business  men  whose 
names  stood  for  power  came  up  to  be  introduced  to 
him  One  old  broker,  who  had  been  a  friend  of  his 
father,  shook  hands  heartily. 

"Congratulate  you,"  he  said.  "I  always  told 
your  father  that  he  ought  to  have  done  it !  Day  for 
mdividualism  is  past!  This  is  the  age  of  co6pera. 
tion,  of  union!     Congratulate  you!" 

"For  what?"  demanded  fruesdale,  slightly  sur- 
prised. 

He  had  not  sent  his  answer  to  the  proposals  of 
the  Great  Consolidated.  A  native  caution,  drilled 
by  a  hard-headed  father,  aroused  Truesdale's  suspi- 
cions of  any  process  /„  get  somelhh.g  for  nothing- 
especially  ,,  great  deal  of  something  for  a  great  deal 
of  nothing.  That  prospect  of  thirty  millions  by  a 
single  sweep  of  the  pen  had  da^ed  'Iruesdale  when 
he  talked  with  Ward.  Now,  the  native  caution 
bade  him  go  slow.  A  business  representing  the  toil 
of  three  generations  of  Truesdales  must  not  be 
whistled  away  for  glittering  prospects.  But  the  old 
broker  only  laughed. 

"Can't  hoax  me,  my  boy!"  The  old  gentleman 
patted  Truesdale's  shoulder.  "You  are  your  father 
over  again:  close,  close!" 

And  the  social  w.-Id  grew  still  more  demonstra- 


'38 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


tive.  He  could  have  framed  the  mirror  of  his  shav- 
ing tabic  with  the  invitations  that  showered  in  every 
morning.  And  some  of  the  invitations  were  un- 
framable,  waylaying  him  on  the  street  in  the  person 
of  the  effusive,  elderly  lady,  who  had  daughters. 
It  was  in  evading  one  of  these  that  he  had  turned 
to  the  window  in  the  art  licalers'  store,  and  sud- 
denly discovered  a  picture  that  brought  back  a 
poignant  memory  of  boyhood. 

It  was  a  small  pastel  of  a  boy  and  girl  treed  by  a 
ferocious  pig  in  a  forbidden  orchard.  The  boy 
and  the  pig  he  did  not  recognize;  but  the  girl  he 
would  have  known  among  a  thousand.  It  was  she 
who  had  led  him  into  the  escapade;  and,  when  the 
pig's  possessor  came,  it  was  not  the  boy  in  the  pic- 
ture, but  another  boy,  who  received  the  double  por- 
tion of  a  switching.  There  were  the  same  long 
braids  of  bronze  hair,  the  same  fearless  eyes,  the 
same  red  and  white,  hectic  skin.  It  was  a  perfect 
likeness  as  she  had  been  ten  years  before.  Trues- 
dale  screwed  on  his  eyeglasses  and  bent  forward  to 
spell  out  the  artist's  name.  What  he  read  was  the 
name  of  the  culprit,  herself — Madeline  Connor. 
Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  spent  the  rest  of  that  afternoon 
in  the  little  studio  behind  the  art  dealer's  store.  It 
was  a  quiet  breathing  space  after  the  adulation  of 
the  previous  week. 

"Do  you  remember,"  laughed  Truesdale,  "how 
mercilessly  everybody  teased  us  about  that  lark?" 

"And  you  used  to  call  me  'red-head'?"  she 
laughed. 


Tin-    LREl.i)   AND    A    CIRL         ,39 

"I^i'l   I?     I  lion't   rc.ncmhcr.      I   used   to   think 

yo  r  h.,r  .as  the  prettiest  tlnn«  that  I  haVer 
.ecnwh.n  ,t  «,,  tn,,Kiecl  ,,,  in  the  sunlight." 

Ihe  ar„st  lauRhcJ  outright  and  laid  down  her 

hushes.      Iruesdale  wondered  if  he  had  fa^id  to 
observe  n,ez.„  tremors  in  other  voices 

.    f  hat  brute  thrashed  you  horribly  after  he  had 
^nven  otf  the  p;g.     I  had  seuttled  down  the  othe 
sale  of  the  tree  just  as  he  caught  vou.    When  he  be 
Ran  to  beat  you  1  tried  to  throw  stones,  but  I  rl\Z 
cecded  ,n  h,tt,„g  you.     If  you  had  not  got  away  Lst 

|v- you  duldunk  J  would  have  torn  bin. ^bit 
can  hc^r  the  swish  of  that  rawhide  yet.     I  ought 

oave  been  put  to  bed  for  a  week!     It  was  allt' 

fault    and  you  never  told;  and  you  never  cried-     I 

booh  booed  all  n.gbt  aftcrward-I  was  so  sor^-' 

And  the  nch,  ripe  smell  of  the  yellow  fruit 

•  •  .  do   you   remember?"   he   asked.      "The   frost 

K  s,fted  through  the  trees  like  gold  n.ist.  It 
.Jt:  '■  ;^°';;',-5;;^Hc.Perides,with 
glow  like         tb  I  That  back  hill  used  to 

I  w  ;  .  '  .  "-'""  ^""'^  ^'•■'•'  heather  when 
I  was  m  Scotland  without  a  sort  of  homesick  feel 
■ng  for  that  old  hill.  The  lights,  somel;  ne"'" 
cemed  c,u,te  so  gay  when  you  were  not  along  I 
r  member  go,ng  back  to  that  old  orchard  one  day 
after  you  had  been  whisk,-,)  „ff     -.i  ^ 

somewhere   ,n  1  ,  "'^'^  ^'°"'  governess 

omewhere,  and  wondermg  what  in  the  world  made 
the  change.     It  was  the  dreariest  sort  of  feel. 


140 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


The  sunlight  was  just  the  same;  but  I'll  be  hanged 
if  the  gold  hadn't  turned  blue." 

The  girl  had  been  sitting  with  her  fingers  inter- 
knotted  round  her  knees;  but,  at  Truesdale's  words, 
she  took  up  her  brushes. 

"I  didn't  think  you  were  a  dreamer  in  those 
days,"  she  said. 

"I  wasn't!  I  was  just  the  average  beast  of  a  boy 
fond  of  apples  1  But  they  tasted  better  when  you 
were  along!  I  don't  believe  you  remember  what 
a  little  dare-devil  you  were.  You  once  planned  to 
row  me  out  to  the  sunset  on  a  plank,  because  you 
wanted  to  see  if  there  were  not  real  palaces  where 
the  clouds  and  the  sea  met.  And,  my  word,  what 
yarns  you  used  to  tell  us.  There  was  always  one 
story  about  a  light-footed  nymph  that  led  the  wind 
a  race  over  the  sea  to  the  sunset — that  was  what 
made  the  ripples,  her  ladyship  tripping  with  troops 
to  paradise.  I  can  see  you  yet  with  the  big  leghorn 
sun-shade,  that  one  with  the  poppies,  swinging  over 
your  back  and  yri,  up  to  your  neck  in  the  clover 
fields  picking  wild  daisies.  What  a  wild-flower  you 
were;  but  I  suppose  this" — he  nodded  at  the  easel 
and  the  paintings — "is  the  explanation!" 

A  long  silence  followed,  the  artist  gazing  back  to 
the  old  orchard,  the  man  watching  the  sunlight  play 
on  her  hair.  It  was  at  the  old  tricks.  He  smiled 
to  recall  how  he  used  to  resent  that  bronze  hair: 
the  gauzy  cobwebs  somehow  snared  his  belligerent 
indifference.  Truesdale  found  himself  wondering 
why  she  was  earning  her  living.    There  were  things 


THE    CREED   AND   A   GIRI.        ,41 

he  wanted  to  know,  and  had  no  right  to  ask;  lor 
he  had  not  heard  from  her  for  three  years.  Mis 
eyes  glanced  over  the  studio.  The  cosy  nooks  with 
draperies  hung  in  a  fluff,  the  antique  jars  full  of 
flowers,  the  old  prints,  the  dainty  bits  of  copper  and 
pottery — all  were  stamped  with  her  character.  He 
had  always  thought  other  studios  cluttery — a  collec- 
tion of  rag  mats  with  holes  in  them,  broken-nossd 
china,  and  old  jugs.  This  one  had  an  air  of  reserve, 
of  cool,  fragrant  freedom. 

"I  shall  have  that  picture  taken  from  the  win- 
dow," remarked  Madeline  presently.  "I  should 
never  have  painted  it  if  I  thought  anyone  could  pos- 
sibly recognize  it.  I  did  not  know  you  were  coming 
back  to  be  a  great  financier." 
"Why  can't  I  buy  it?" 

"You  can  have  it  to  make  up  for  that  pig  man's 
thrashing,  if  you  like." 

"But  why  can't  I  buy  it,"  repeated  Truesdale. 
"I  never  sell  things  to  friends." 
Truesdale  puckered  his  brows.     She  had  been  an 
enigma  as  a  girl.     She  was  more  of  an  enigma  as  a 
woman. 

"Why  do  you  deny  your  friends?" 
"It's  a  prejudice  that  I've  had  since  my  father 
bought  some  of  Colonel  Dillon's  railroad  stock  be- 
cause he  was  a  friend.  Yoi'  know  the  Great  Con- 
solidated wrecked  that  company-  -'took  it  over,'  're- 
organized it,'  I  think  the  papers  called  it— and  then 
bought  up  the  remnant  bankrupts.  It  would  have 
been  quite  right — as  the  world  goes,   I  suppose— 


142 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


if  the  blow  had  not  killed  my  father.  By  the  time 
all  the  bric-a-brac  and  paintings  were  sold,  I  was 
the  only  thing  left  for  the  auctioneer's  hammer; 
and  this  is  the  only  way  I  am  marketable.  I'm  all 
that  was  left  after  the  Great  Consolidated  finished 
with  my  father.  If  I  have  to  spoil  good  canvas  that 
might  make  wheat  bags,  and  paints  that  might  im- 
prove  fences — why "   she  laughed  lightly,   "I 

make  it  a  rule  never  to  impose  on  my  friends  because 
they  are  friends." 

"When  did  this  happen?"  he  asked. 

"Three  years  ago." 

"And  that  was  the  reason  you  stopped  writing?" 

Madeline  Connor  turned  to  her  box  of  tubes  for 
burnt  umber. 

"Don't  you  think,"  she  asked,  "that  the  perfume 
from  those  roses  is  slightly  overpowering?" 

Truesdale  ignored  the  evasion  and  raised  the  win- 
dow. He  felt  timid  of  himself.  Incidentally,  he 
noticed  that  sunlight  striking  hair  slantwise  turned 
bronze  strands  to  gold,  and  that  rose-tinted  finger- 
nails resembled  pink  shells. 

"So  that  was  the  reason  you  stopped  writing?  It 
was  hardly  fair  to  a  friend — Madeline?" 

"Such  a  tale  of  woe  to  dump  on  a  friend,"  she 
laughed. 

"Thank  you  for  telling  me  all  this,"  said  Trues- 
dale quietly. 

He  was  surprised  to  hear  his  voice  agitated.  You 
cannot  tell  what  your  voice  may  do  till  you  test  it; 
and  such  a  sense  of  exhilaration  suddenly  pervaded 


THE   CREED  AND  A  GIRL        143 

the  studio  that  Truesdale's  voice  did  not  stand  the 
test.  So  little  had  been  said  between  them  that  it 
was  absolutely  nothing;  and  yet  the  old  glow  of  sub- 
tle delight  that  had  turned  the  orchard  to  gold  sud- 
denly transfused  the  afternoon  dullness  with  a  puls- 
ing hope.  He  watched  the  slant  sunlight  flooding 
the  room.  The  same  witchery  played  on  her  brow, 
on  her  lips,  in  her  eyes,  as  that  afternoon  in  the 
orchard.  He  remembered  how  the  hectic  color  used 
to  flush  and  wane  in  her  cheeks  with  every  chmge 
of  mood.  It  was  glowing  and  fading  there  now, 
m  bright  spots.  Truesdale  watched  the  quick,  nerv- 
ous motions  of  eyes,  hands,  face;  and  framed  a  new 
theory  of  dynamics,  did  this  practical  young  man; 
though  not  for  a  moment  did  he  acknowledge  that 
new  dynamics  had  entered  his  own  life.     Motions 

expressed  the  personality that  was  it,   he 

decided;  they  were  the  spelling  out  of  thought  in 

{[°™ from  which,  it  may  be  inferred,  that 

^Ir.  Jack  Truesdale,  quite  impersonally,  of  course, 
tried  to  reason  what  sort  of  a  character  this  artist 
must  have,  with  her  sensitive  delicate  touch  and 
swift,  daring  fire. 

It  baffled  him— this  new-born  fire.  What  did  it 
mean?  What  would  be  the  result  when  her  nature 
became  fused  in  the  one  great  fire  of  existence? 
•  ...  It  would  be  no  half  and  half  affair  with  her. 
It  would  be  transfiguration;  or  the  flash  that  re- 
veals darkness  ....  And  all  would  depend  on  the 
object  of  her  love,  on  the  problematical  man. 
Curiously  enough,  the  thought  of  the  problematical 


144 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


man  brought  a  sudden  stop  to  Truesdale's  specula- 
tions. 

"Have  you  ever  been  with  people,  Madeline,  who 
gave  you  the  impression  that  you  must  have  known 
them  .   .  well?  .   .   .  since    time   began?" 

The  question  had  slipped  from  him  unawares. 

Madeline  laid  the  brushes  down,  looked  at  the 
picture  with  her  head  to  one  side,  and  picked  the 
brushes  up  again. 

"Exactly  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Exactly?  ....  I  don't  know  exactly.  It  isn't 
the  sort  of  exactliness  that  can  be  figured  out  or  put 
in  w'jrrls.  Just  a  whim  that  two  people  couldn't 
rtcop-;  ' '-C  each  other  as  kindred  friends;  couldn't 
be  so  mstantaneously  drawn  together,  unless  they 
had  known  each  other  somewhere  before.  The 
sea  draws  the  river,  you  know ;  because  the  river  has 
been  there  before.  And  the  sun  draws  the  sea;  and 
it's  worth  running  the  whole  weary  round  of  exist- 
ence just  to  find  one's  destiny." 

"I  c'on't  believe  I  know  exactly  what  you  mean." 
She  ran  her  fingers  down  a  brush.  "When  I  am  with 
some  people,  I  feel  as  if  they  hud  given  me  wings  to 
go  on  with  the  humdrum  ....  as  if  nothing  could 
be  humdrum " 

'There  tnay  be  a  man,"  thought  Mr.  Jack  Trues- 
dale. 

"But  it  rather  frightens  me  .   .  ." 

"Then,  there  is  not  a  man,"  thought  Mr.  Jack 
Truesdale. 


THE    CREED   AND   A   GIRL        ,45 

"There  is  something  terrible  in  the  thought  that 
one  can't  resist  destiny." 

"Not  if  destiny  is  what  you  would  yourself  have 
chosen,"  interrupted  Truesdale. 

"About  that  picture,"  interposed  the  artist.  "I'll 
have  the  office  boy  take  it  to  your  address." 
"It  may  be  her  art,"  he  thought. 
"Yes,  about  that  picture,"  he  said  out  loud,  "as 
you  used  yourself  for  the  model  of  the  girl ;  who— if 
you  don't  mind  telling  me— posed  for  the  boy  ?  And 
who— if  it  isn't  bccret— is  your  friend,  the  pig?" 

My  friend,  the  pig,  was  a  gentleman  of  a  tenor 
voice  in  a  certain  stock  company  that  played  in  a  back 
yard.      I'm   sorry   to   say   since   that   picture   was 

painted  he  has  been  reincarnated " 

"In  sausages,"  suggested  Truesdale.     "And— the 
boy? 

"Is  the  very  best  boy  I  have  known  for  mischief 
since  I  knew  you.  True.  I  met  him  first  when  I 
was  painting  in  the  tenements.  He  stole  food  and 
wouldn't  give  his  name  for  fear  of  putting  the  po- 
lice on  his  mother's  tracks.  Mr.  Hebden  got  him 
out  of  gaol;  but  his  mother  had  disappeared.  Mr 
Ward  took  a  fancy  to  one  of  the  pictures  of  him' 
Then  Mr.  Hebden  and  Mrs.  Ward  got  him  a  posi- 
tion  as  messenger  for  the  Great  Consolidated.  He 
ives  at  the  cottage  with  my  mother.  He  is  still  mv 
best  model."  ' 

Truesdale's  face  grew  serious. 

"Madeline  ....  do  you  go  painting  in  those 
tenements  ....  by  yourself?" 


146 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Why  not?  I  am  as  poor  as  the  poorest;  and  I 
am  very  much  interested  in  the  poor  since  that  stock 
speculation,  or  peculation,  made  me  poor.  I  like  to 
study  out  what  makes  people  poor.  Aren't  you  in- 
terested in  the  great  questions  of  the  day?" 

"Only  in  a  theoretical  sort  of  way,"  returned 
Truesdale  stiflly. 

It  was  one  of  his  prejudices  to  dislike  women  who 
interested  themselves  in  "questions."  Poverty  he 
relegated  to  the  mercies  of  Providence  and  faddish 
ladies  who  called  at  business  offices  for  contributions 
to  elaborate  charities. 

"I  hate  theory."  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
sincerity  of  her  sentiment.  "It  seems  to  me  more 
theories  are  made  to  explain  wrong  than  to  prevent 
it.  Poverty  itself  is  too  cruelly  real !  I  often  won- 
der if  there's  no  getting  to  the  bottom  of  the  hideous 
wrongs  beside  data  put  away  in  office  files.  Why 
is  there  such  poverty?  Mine,  for  instance,  was  not 
necessary.  Budd,  my  boy  model,  should  not  have 
been  compelled  to  steal  for  food.  He  couldn't  get 
food  'on  the  square' — as  he  called  it — because  the 
price  of  meat,  and  coal,  and  bread  had  gone  up. 
And  the  price  had  gone  up  ...  .  there,  I  stop! 
It's  like  the   stock   speculation   or  peculation   that 

ruined  my  father.     Everybody  suffers 

nobody  is  to  blame  ....  and  it  can't  be  helped! 
Oh,  ....  I  hate  your  theories!  I'm  glad  I'm  a 
woman  and  don't  need  to  have  them  to  justify  me! 
Somehow,  some  men  get  the  power  to  compel  others 
to  sell  at  a  sacrifice,  to  buy  at  high  prices.     The 


THE   CREED  AND  A   GIRL        147 

others  have  no  choice  ....  they  must  pay  high- 
er starve  I  I  don't  see  much  difference  between  that 
and  puttmg  a  pistol  to  a  man's  head  while  you  pick 
his  pockets!  But,  of  course,  I  am  only  a  woman  I 
Men  would  say  I  am  hysterical  and  emotional— that 

all  this  IS  impersonal! The  price  of  every- 

thing  goes  up-why? If  I  ^ere  a  man  I 

should  trace  that  back  and  back  if  I  had  to  go  to  the 
deluge " 

"Then  what  would  you  do?"  asked  Truesdale 
with  gentle  sarcasm.  He  awakened  to  the  fact  that 
the  girl's  fire  might  stand  for  more  than  a  latent 
power  to  love.  Her  words  had  an  unpleasantly  per- 
sonal ring. 

"What  would  I  do  when  I  got  back  to  the  del- 
uge?" she  repeated  slowly,  turning  deliberately  to 
him.  "God  knows  what  I  could  do!  But  two 
things  I  do  know:  I  would  not  do  nothing;  I  would 
not  rest  supine  with  folded  hands,  while  the  world 
writhed  in  the  pain  of  a  curable  anguish;  I  would 
not  fatten  on  the  ruin  of  others  as  President  Ward 
and  Colonel  Dillon  have  been  doing !  Oh— they  are 
rich— I  know  they  are  rich— rich  enough  to  pave 
the  vaults  of  heaven  with  gold  and  buy  up  half 
a  dozen  Europes;  but  they  are  rich  men  whose  names 
make  the  honest  rich  blush,  and  the  honest  poor 
curse !  The  other  thing  I  know  is  this :  the  man  who 
shows  the  world  how  to  bring  old  truth  to  bear  on 
new  wrongs  will  be  the  apostle  of  a  new  dawn  I" 


'Dear 


Is  it  as  bad  as  this?"  thought 


148 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Truesdale.     "This  girl  is  guilty  of  brains!     She 
actually  believes  what  she  believes!" 

If  the  words  had  been  uttered  by  a  woman  fad- 
dist addicted  to  "questions,"  he  could  have  brushed 
aside  the  sense  of  personal  responsibility.  He  might 
have  set  her  down  as  one  more  of  the  envious 
shriekers,  of  the  failires,  of  the  shiftless,  obstruct- 
ing success;  but  she  was  the  living  victim  of  the 
wrong  she  denounced;  and  she  was  unconscious  of 
that  denunciation  having  any  bearing  on  himself. 
The  intensity  of  her  feelings  had  set  the  hectic  spots 
flushing.  All  the  Intent  fire  flashed  to  the  luminous 
pupils  of  the  gray  eyes.  Her  lips  trembled.  She 
bent  over  a  jar  of  roses  as  she  talked. 

"I've  thought  so  much  about  these  things,"  she 
said  softly. 

In  his  mental  world  women  with  the  possession 
of  thoughts  always  shrieked  them,  so  that  a  heed- 
less world  could  not  but  hear;  but  these  thoughts  in 
the  tremulous  voice  stole  on  one  unawares. 

"Since  my  father's  death  life  has  brought  me  so 
close  to  things  that  I  riave  been  compelled  to  think!" 
She  hesitated  with  a  tremor  of  lips  fatal  to  his  stoi- 
cism. "I  can't  shut  my  eyes  to  terrible  facts  any 
more,  the  way  we  women  always  do  when  we  can! 
We're  cowards,  True !  We  shut  our  eyes  to  fright- 
ful realities;  and  say  little  nice  things,  bits  of  poetry 
about  mystery  and  Providence  and  resignation !  I 
can't  shut  my  eyes  to  terrible  facts  any  longer — I'm 
up  against  them.  True!" 

Truesdale  did  not  answer  a  word.     If  her  lips 


THE    CREED   AND   A   GIRL        149 

would  only  stop  quivering  he  might  have  accepted 
the  situation  more  airily.  Leaning  across  the  table 
he  took  one  of  the  roses  from  her  hand  and  put  it  in 
his  buttonhole. 

''I  feel  like  one  groping  in  the  dark  I" 
''Obviously,"  thought  Truesdale. 
"But  I've  come  to  one  conclusion?" 
"Have  you?"   he  asked   almost  roughly.     They 
had  fought  things  out  as  children.    He  was  not  pre- 
pared to  g,ve  her  femininity  quarter,  if  she  pressed 
h.m  too  closely.     "I  never  come  to  conclusions  any 
more,  Madeline  I    The  more  I  know  of  modern  life 
the  less  I  know  what  to  think.     You  might  as  well 
ask  a  man  to  sleep  in  his  babyhood  crib  as  to  fit 
modern  busmess  to  the  Ten  Commnndmcnts!" 

"But  that  is  only  a  narrow  way  of  looking  at  it  " 
objected  the  girl. 

Truesdale  caught  his  breath.  He  was  not  used 
to  bemg  called  narrow. 

"My  conclusion  is  very  old-fashioned,"  she  went 
on.  "It's  just  this:  no  matter  what  the  starting 
point  IS,  when  you've  traced  things  back,  it's  always 
to  the  same  cause  ....  Some  one  taking  more 
than  his  share  ....  some  one  encroaching  on 
some  one  else's  rights  ....  wrong  ....  sin 
....  just  old-fashioned  cussedness  .  .    '" 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  very'  imperson- 
ally. 

It  was  characteristic  of  a  woman  to  lead  up  to 
such  a  childish  conclusion;  but  he  did  not  laugh 
How  could  he  explain  that  the  words  "wrong— sin" 


IJO 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


had  for  him  no  meaning;  that  they  had  gone  out 
tvith  the  going  out  of  the  old  century;  that  ail  the 
words  entailed  had  no  place  in  modern  thought? 
To  be  weak,  to  be  not  fit  to  survive — that  was  sin, 
the  one  and  only  sin  of  the  new  century;  and  nature 
wiped  the  sinner  out. 

"Oh,"  smiled  Truesdale.  "Wrong  is  rather  a 
narrow  term!" 

"It  depends  on  the  way  you  use  it,"  continued 
Madeline.  "If  it  means  breaking  law,  scientifi'- 
law,  health  law,  national  law — seems  to  me  it's  a 
wide  term.  But  what  does  it  matter  what  you  call 
it?  The  wrong  is  in  encroaching  on  the  rights  of 
others  .  .   ." 

"What  rights?"  cut  in  Truesdale  tersely. 

"Well,"  laughed  Madeline,  "I  think  most  of  us 
have  been  pretty  well  stuffed  by  our  teachers  about 
the  rights  of  'Life,  .  .  Liberty,  .  .  and  Happiness' 
mentioned  in  an  old  document  called  the  Declaration 
of  Independence." 

"Yes,"  mused  Truesdale,  "we  boys  used  to  get 
our  heads  cracked  over  those  old  rights."  What 
he  was  thinking  was  that  the  rights  had  gone  out 
of  fashion,  f-.llen  before  the  new  commerce  like  a 
house  of  cards.  "Life  is  made  up  of  a  good  deal 
more  than  the  teach-  i  tell  us,"  he  went  on  vaguely. 
"Each  fellow  must  get  the  facts  bumped  into  his  own 
cosmos  by  actual  living." 

"My  cosmos  is  black  and  blue  with  bumps," 
laughed  the  girl.     "Because  I  am  the  under  dog  I 


THE  CREED  AND  A  GIRL        ,5, 

Trf/Tr'«^',  ^''"  ^'  ^"  '"  hi*  own  apartments 
T  uesdale  fl.cked  the  cigar  ashes  from  the  sleeve  5 

htd  :■  ""  ""  '""  '■"^"''^'^  '''^  'P-->  "to  think 

hJyr'-T'u"'"  "  ''°""'"  '^'th  something  in  her 
head  bes.de  ha.rpins?  And  do  we  like  her?  I 
don  t  thmk  so!     And  has  she  met  a  man  w  th  any 

J:"/  T-"  '"  ''"  ''""  =•  "P''^'  S  with  two  ,t  ck 
through  <t  .  .  .  in  fact,  dollars?- 

anJthtrw-haTrrtj."''-^^  '''—'"«  paper. 
■Ch?nge';"dL'o';"wt''h    '''""''   '""   •""•""  -   N.   V. 

~:ri^^r';ir:;t^^^ 

and  mformed  the  public  that  Thomas  Ward    the' 

"In  the  first  place,  it's  a  balloon,"  said  Truesdal^ 

the"  ttd'T'-  ''  '  t^'^^'  ^°'  crookedness  ;• 
the  third,  chanty  .s  cheaper  than  justice,"  and  he 
flung  the  paper  to  the  floor.  It  i,  to  be  nZ  I 
there  were  three  Truesdales:  one'L"  a^rS^S 


fif 


isa 


Tilt:    Ni:\V    DAWN 


Thomas  Ward;  another  had  contradicted  Madeline; 
the  third  expressed  conclusions  altcigcthcr  different 
to  himself. 

lie  mused  late,  paying  no  heed  to  call-bell  and 
telephone.  "If  she  were  a  man  she  wDuld  trace  this 
back  to  the  deluge,  doggie  I  Then  what — Sir?  She 
would  get  wet;  wouldn't  she?  Or  she  would  take 
refuge  in  a  Noah's  ark  of  lying  platitudes.  Women 
are  all  alike  in  one  respect,  my  bob-tail  friend — eyes 
on  the  moon,  feet  in  the  gutter  1" 

Had  Trucsdale  given  an  account  of  his  thoughts 
he  would  have  said  that  he  was  considering  the  pro- 
posals of  the  Great  Consolidated;  but  one  phantom 
glided  in  many  forms  along  the  surface  of  these 
thoughts.  Afterward  came  a  shifting  dream  of 
some  myth  garden  with  sunlight  sifting  through 
orchard  aisles  in  a  golden  mist.  A  form  that  cast 
no  shadow  glided  near  .  .  .  and  nearer. 

"I  knew  that  you  would  come,"  he  was  saying. 
Then  he  wakened  dazed  from  a  blinding  sense  of 
elusive  reality.  Daylight  poured  through  the  win- 
dow 

"A  dream,"  he  mused;  but  he  dreamed  the  dream 
over  again  wide  awake.  It  stayed  with  him  all  the 
day  in  a  sort  of  subconscious  sense  of  life  promising 
exquisite  happiness. 


chai'[i:r  XI 

T..E  CRUCO  WOKKHD  OUT  „V  trrxtE  M.s  AND 
lESS  BRAINS 

»   noise  of  buzzing  whee       eToM  ''"'''' 

'Vith  a  clattering  of  coa  at  T  K  '"'^"'"^'"""y 
round  the  curved  track!  r., ''°""'"'  '''^'^^''^ 
trestleway,    and    wh Tk  '  /  K    l^  "^  "^  '^'  P""''"'--' 

at  the  foot^oVth  '"tnlf  ^-l^''-^  '"^'-^'  '"e  hill 
•^'«"  of  hu,na  f^.  ;C  th  ^'  T  ''"  ""'y 
Consolidated.  '  """"  "^  '^c  Great 

'he  huff  .  .      I,,,ff  I    a     r    , 

engine   that   kcvt   Z  '  '■  '  "    "^'  ''■"'^'  '"'^^'^r 

heavy  breahinl  of  V'T"  '''""^''"''  ^"''"^'  ^he 
the  jdtinr  f  fr,  rat-  '":r''''^,"  '"  ''''  -"''=y. 
-ingof  the  fly  gcab  ; If  "m  "">•  '^'•-  h"- 
-all  seemed  iL^c  ^        feT;     'I''  "'  ^''i  ^'•"^'^' 

-H  a  blind,  driving,  rei;;:s^^v::;ri'rs 

'53 


'54 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


with  neither  let  nor  hindrance,  neither  beginning 
nor  end,  a  Thing  that  embodied  itself  in  one  huge, 
grinding  Machine! 

Overhead,  the  sky  reeked  with  the  amber  thaw 
of  a  warm  sun.  The  tree-feathered  outline  of  the 
hill  appeared  like  a  network  against  the  sky.  Be- 
low, swirled  the  river,  swollen  with  the  pent  forces 
of  breaking  winter,  swift  and  cold  and  relentless, 
like  the  Force  of  the  Machine-Thing.  And  every- 
where the  soft  haze  of  gray  mists  lay,  an  impal- 
pable veil. 

But  the  two  men  toiling  up  the  hillside  saw 
neither  machinery  nor  scenery.  One  was  absorbed 
in  coming  at  a  subject  by  running  all  round  it.  The 
other  was  busy  practicing  precepts  which  years  of 
employment  with  the  Great  Consolidated  had  in- 
grained in  his  nature;  precepts  which  were  alto- 
gether worthy  and  commendable  when  the  Great 
Consolidated  practiced  them,  but  not  so  worthy  and 
commendable  when  practiced  against  the  Great  Con- 
solidated; precepts  to  put  the  screw  on  when  you 
have  the  chance,  and  get  the  most  from  the  other 
party  to  a  contract  when  you  can  force  his  hand. 
One  was  Obadiah  Saunders,  secretary  to  the  Great 
Consolidated.  The  other  was  Kipp,  the  engineer, 
who  had  been  dismissed  for  expressing  the  honest 
opinion  that  Shaft  lo  was  unsafe,  and  who  had 
seen  his  prophecy  verified  by  the  killing  of  twenty 
men,  and  who  had  suddenly  discovered  that  his 
services  were  five  times  more  valuable  to  the  com- 
pany as  a  dangerous  enemy  than  as  a  faithful  serv- 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       ,;; 

Plete.    Though  Kinn  .f    4       7     ^  ''^^"  '°  «^o'"- 
converged  tof  ve^y'^lr  eld  'T  "?''k  "'•'  "^'^''^ 

■n  inverse  proportion  to  htgtj?;  Kioo"  ^"" 
gered.  "^"Ktn,  so  Kipp  swag- 

"We  v/ere  thinking,  Kino  "  nh,A-  u 
softly,   "we  were   tW^n^'f^^^^       '^''  '^^'"^ 
mines  in  Peru."  ^'"^  "^  opening  some  new 

tobacco  iith  exact"  ptcisionT'^  '^'P"'-   ^'^^  'P« 

"How  much  w  u'd    :„  ask  ^TV  '''  '■°^'^- 

»  man  to  examine  them  "    No'^Zl  T n^'^v'^'^ 

quickly,   "not  that  T   ,         u,        '     ^'^'^'^'^  Obadiah 

Place/'lf  "a  chance  foTthe      '"  r^'^^  ^^^  '''^ 
me  see,  now  '"'"'' ^°^  ^''^  "'^"who  gets  it.     Let 

Pii-tsinfortheposi^lirratf^'""'"^^'^^ 
Inur  are,  are  thur'"  3«t.>rl  v. 

•'-ad   grin.     Kipp,   s^.^^n.^^Zl^f  :7\" 

tion.  "That  is-Kit-I  CO  ,'r°r'°"  °'  ^  '^""■ 
ask  too  high  a  salarl  "  nuZ  u  u  ^°"'  ^'''^  '^'''"'t 
his,ha„ds'throu:^h^s  be^""'  "'""^''^^""^  '^-^v 

Ain  t  traveh'n'  at  present  "  <,r,o»  ,r- 

-ng  off  another  chew  o7  toba'co.  '      °"'  '"'^P'  '''^- 


156 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Obadiah  turned  in  the  climb  and  examined  the 
landscape  below.  A  big,  squarish-built  man  in  blue 
overalls  passed  them,  touching  his  hat  with  surly 
respect  to  the  secretary,  winking  over  his  shoulder 
to  the  engineer. 

"That's  McGee,  the  I.  W.  W.  delegate,  isn't  it?" 
asked  Saunders,  gently. 

"Looks  like  him,"  muttered  Kipp. 

"How  is  he  succeeding  with  Truesdale's  miners? 
Have  any  of  them  come  over  to  your  union  yet?" 

"Haven't  heard,"  retorted  Kipp.  Also,  Kipp 
waved  the  hand  farthest  from  the  secretary  in  a 
scarcely  perceptible  signal  to  the  labor  delegate  now 
disappearing  in  the  tunnel. 

Obadiah  took  out  b'  handkerchief  and  gently 
moistened  his  lips.  "Kipp,"  he  said,  dropping  his 
voice  very  low,  "let  us  stop  fencing!  How  much — 
do — you  want — anyway?" 

Kipp  grinned  broadly.  He  couldn't  help  it.  His 
height  converged  to  a  small  head  and  he  had  been 
waiting  for  Obadiah's  circling  to  come  to  the  point 
by  running  all  round  it. 

"Guess  I  could  worry  'long  with  a  matter  o'  ten 
thousand  spot  down,"  volunteered  Kipp  with  a  toss 
to  his  head,  and  a  hitch  to  his  shoulders,  and  a  rat- 
tat-too  of  one  boot  on  the  ground. 

Obadiah  gasped  and  put  all  ten  fingers  in  his 
beard  at  one  clutch. 

"This  is  a  steep  climb,"  said  the  secretary. 

"I  guess  so,"  agreed  Kipp. 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       ,57 

him^th"  ^T  V  ''"''^  ''^-we'll  have  to  settle 
him,     thought  the  secretary 

tunnel  running  in  from  the  diff  "  " 

H„  '^!1'    ^j  '"""''"   ''°'^'^'^   Saunders,   gating  far 
down  the  deserted  valley.    The  Machin^For"!  had 
o  e  possession  of  the  lonely,  mist-gray  valley    Eve' 
the  m^an  at  the  foot  of  the  tra.wly  hal  dSp 

fort!?'"  7'  T"^''^  '^'  '"'^'  °f  the  river,  angle 
forty-five  first  hundred  feet,  then,  straight  dp  the 
vem  faulted,  didn't  merge  in  tunnel  ledge  «  aH 
ran  off  at  right  angle  to  the  river.  That's  where  I 
found  out  we  had  run  into  the  Truesdale  .^inesl- 
were  off  our  hmits  a  hundred  yards." 

Yes,  I  know  I     Never  mind  that,"   murmured 

talked";  h"'      .'".^  u''°'  '"■^  '^^S«"  -hen  he 
talked  of  h.s  work,  "when  you're  down  there  you'rc 

vel  with  the  bottom.     I  suspected  an  underground 

«ream  down  there.     I  advised  stronger  timbers  to 

keep  her  solid.     It  wouldn't  have  cosf  twolndred 

^wo  hundred  times  that  hushing  up  the'claima'nt  ; 


IS8 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


but  you  don't  hush  me,  sir,  not  after  that  accident, 
with  our  tunnel  robbing  the  Trucsdale  mines  1" 

"Too  bad — too  bad!"  murmured  Saunders  sym- 
pathetically, with  a  deep  intersection  of  thoughtful 
lines  across  his  white  brow. 

"A'jout  a  hundred  yards  back  from  the  shaft  the 
bottom  fell  out  o'  the  mine — that's  all !  There  was 
a  cave-in  or  cave-down,  with  twenty  poor  fellows 
dead  under  the  heap!  You've  got  a  lake  down 
there,  black  as  pitch,  scuddin'  round  without  any 
bottom  to  it,  far  as  I  could  find." 

"Were  all  the  l)odies  recovered,  Kipp?" 
"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Kipp,  grave  and  stern,  "and 
I'm  thinking  it's  little  you'd  care  if  the  whole  union 
went  into  that  hole,  providin'  it  didn't  affect  divi- 
dends and  your  stock  jobbin' !" 

There  was  a  long  silence,  Kipp  kicking  his  heels, 
the  secretary  knotting  and  interknotting  his  hands 
under  his  coat  tails. 

"We  wired  you,  Kipp,  to  fill  that  shaft  up  with 

rocks!     We've  had  enough  loss  of  life  .  .   ." 

"Yes — it  comes  high — don't  it?"  muttered  Kipp. 

"We  don't  want  newspapers  spying  down  there! 

It  was  hard  work  keeping  those  muddle-heads  of 

coroners  off  the  scent!" 

"And  you  couldn't  have  done  that  if  /  hadn't 
kept  quiet,"  added  Kipp. 

"Have  you  filled  the  shaft  up?" 
"I've  got  your  telegrams  here,  sir!    Timbers  and 
rocks  all  ready  at  the  edge.    Could  fill  her  up  in  ten 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT 


IS9 


I  haven't  done  it, 


minutes,  but  I  haven't  done  it; 
yet — by  JingI" 

"Why  not,  Kipp?"  wheedled  Saunders. 

Kipp  grunted  a  hoarse  laugh.  "What  d'  y'  take 
me  for?    You've  got  to  settle  with  me,  first!" 

"That's  what  I'm  here  for,  Kipp!" 

"'Tis— is  it?  Well,  when  the  company  fixes  me 
up  I'll  fill  her  so  the  rip  o'  Judgment  Day  can't 
excavate  her!" 

"My  dear  fellow—"  they  had  reached  the  miners' 
quarters  when  the  secretary  turned  with  languishing 
reproach  to  the  engineer— "my  dear  fellow,  what  do 
you  take  the  company  for?  It's  no  dime  concern 
to  dicker  ovtt  a  few  dollars.  Make  your  mind 
easy  on  ttiat  score,  Kipp!  You  have  named  the 
figure.     Trust  me  to  write  the  check!" 

"Check  be  damned!"  swore  Kipp.  "You  know 
right  well  the  company  don't  write  checks  for  them 
kind  o'  services!  It  pays  cash!  I  gave  straight 
talk  on  that  shaft,  and  you  didn't  take  it!  You've 
buffaloed  the  claimants,  but  you  don't  buffalo  me! 
I've  got  two  cards  up  my  sleeve,  either  one  o'  them 
worth  a  good  hundred  thousand !  There  are  twenty 
men  dead,  as  ought  to  be  alive  to-day!  There's  a 
company,  I  know,  as  has  been  robbing  from  its 
neighbor's  ledge!  Now,  you  can  pay  the  piper  for 
your  little  dance!  You're  gettin'  off  cheap  at  ten 
thousand!" 

"Well,  you  needn't  shout  it,  Kipp,"  said  Saun- 
ders, as  they  entered  the  bunk  house. 
Kipp  stamped. 


i6o 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"I'd  like  you  to  know  right  oft  that  not  a  single 
rock,  not  a  single  pebble,  not  a  grain  o'  dirt  goes 
down  that  shaft  till  I've— got— the  cash— in  my 

pocket!" 

"We'll  have  to  settle  himl  We'll  have  to  settle 
him!"  thought  Obadiah. 

"Kipp,"  he  said  gently,  decisively,  "if  you  come 
to  my  office  to-morrow,  I'll  pay  you  the  cash!— 
Now,  are  you  satisfied?" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  I've  got  it  whether  I'm  satis- 
fied or  not,"  wagged  Kipp.  "You're  getting  off 
cheap,  Mr.  Saunders!  Every  one  o'  them  claim- 
ants could  get  ten  thousand  in  the  courts!  An' 
there's  something  else!" 

Obadiah  dropped  back  aghast. 
"Yes,  sir — there's  something  else.  Some  of  you 
gentlemen  ought  to  go  down,  yourselves,  and  see 
that  shaft.  You  ought  to  report  to  the  directors. 
I  ain't  goin'  t'  have  my  report  go  up  as  blackmail. 
You  ought  to  go  down,  yourself,  an'  report!" 

Obadiah  stood  meditating.  If  the  fellow  would 
only  consent  to  a  check,  or  defer  his  demands,  there 
would  be  time  to  think  what  should  be  done  with 
this  troublesome  engineer.  "We'll  certainly  have  to 
settle  him  1"  thought  Saunders.  The  huff  .  .  .  • 
huff  of  the  little  power  engine  far  below  in  the  val- 
ley, the  heavy  breathings  of  the  locomotives,  the 
jolting  of  the  cars,  the  humming  of  the  flying  cables, 
the  rumble  of  the  trucks— all  seemed  instinct  with  a 
life  that  was  not  human,  with  a  blind,  driving,  re- 
lentless Force,  a  Force  with  neither  let  nor  hm- 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       i6i 

drance,  neither  beginning  nor  end,  a  Thing  that 
embodied  .tself  in  one  huge,  grinding  Machine, 
iiven  the  man  at  the  foot  of  the  tramway  had  dis- 
appeared. 

The  idea  of  this  Kipp,  this  engineer  fellow,  v"th 
but  little  brams,  opposing  himself  to  such  a  Foice— 
Pshaw!  Obadiah  smiled  with  a  sickly  scorn  of  the 
fool. 

"Well?"  demanded  Kipp  insolently.  "What  do 
you  say  to  your  going  down  yourself?" 

A  little  spark  of  fire  gleamed  in  the  secretary's 
rerret  eyes. 

"Certainly  1  I'll  go  down— go  down,  now— with 
you! 

"There's  no  hoist  running,"  warned  Kipp.  "We'll 
have  to  scramble  down  the  ladder,  then  crawl  along 
from  the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  Electric  lights  were 
blown  out  by  the  shock.  We'll  use  lanterns.  It's 
^".."ght— it's  safe.     There's  no  fire  damp!" 

Well,  Kipp,"  answered  Obadiah  jovially.  "I've 
climbed  dark  places  before.     Get  your  rig  ready  " 

Kipp  went  off  laughing  for  the  lanterns  and  cloth- 
'ng.  The  triumph  was  so  complete.  Kipp  knew  an 
opportunity  when  he  saw  it!  To  compel  "Silky" 
the  immaculate,  "Lady  Macbeth,"  the  foxy  schemer 
to  go  down  a  slippery,  coal-black  ladder  and  walk 
through  dark  tunnels  with  coal  water  soaking  down 
h.s  back— was  a  joke,  which  Kipp  was  prepared  to 
retail  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Kipp  knew  an  op- 
portunity when  he  saw  it,  did  Kipp!  And  just  to 
hnish  off  his  victory  he  would  not  fetch  waterproof 


,6i  THE    NEW    DAWN 

clothes.     Oh,  Kipp  knew  an  opportunity,  he  did; 
and  he  emitted  great  guffaws  as  he  ran  for  the 

lanterns. 

But  Obadiah  knew  an  opportunity  when  he  saw 
it,  too.  Kipp's  back  was  not  turned  before  Saunders 
slipped  into  the  telephone  ofHce,  rang  up  the  fore- 
man of  the  mines,  and  sent  a  soft-toned  message 
to  the  underground  toilers  that  might  have  puzzled 

Kipp- 

"It  is  Mr.  Saunders  who  is  speaking— reporters 

are  spying  round  that  dangerous  shaft— have  a 
force  of  a  hundred  men  at  the  top  of  Shaft  lO— 
listen  distinctly  now— at  the  top  of  Shaft  lo— in 
precisely  half  an  hour— neither  more  nor  less  than 
half  an  hour— await  my  orders  there." 

At  each  pause  the  secretary's  soft  voice  sank  to 
gentle  cadences  of  patience  with  the  man  at  the 
other  end  of  the  wire.  Then,  he  slipped  from  the 
telephone  box  and  was  back  in  the  bunk  house  be- 
fore Kipp  returned. 

"If  he  takes  twenty  minutes  to  change  his  clothes 
— Lordy!— how  long  will  he  take  to  report  on  the 
pool?"  thought  Kipp,  waiting  for  the  dapper  secre- 
tary to  emerge  frc  i  the  bunk  house. 

Inside,  Saunders  stood  with  his  watch  in  his  hand. 
As  Kipp  lighted  the  lanterns  at  the  top  of  Shaft  lo, 
Saunders  put  his  watch  aside.  From  the  blurred 
windows  of  the  bunk  house  he  saw  a  force  of  men 
come  from  a  tunnel  far  below  the  cliff. 

Oh,  Kipp  knew  an  opportunity  when  he  saw  it, 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       ,63 

did  KippI    It  was  such  a  joke  that  he  could  hardly 
Keep  from  laughing. 

"Ready,  sir?"  Kipp  dived  into  the  darkness  of 
the  shaft,  scrambling  down,  face  in.  face  out,  any 
way,  clinging  and  swinging,  he  knew  the  ladder  so 
"■'i'jf  '°"'^  ''''^'=  '^°^"  'ike  a  boy  on  a  pole. 

All  hope  abandon  her. !"  he  shouted  up  jocosely 
from  the  swallowing  blackness.  And  how  he  laughed 

the  white  light  of  the  shaft  opening,  clambering 
down  cautiously,  backing  slowly,  rung  by  rung,  face 
to  the  wan,  "for  all  the  world,  like  a  scared  baboon," 
laughed  Kipp,  swinging  down  hand  over  fist,  faster 
than  ever. 

"Come  on,  sir!  Come  onl"  shouted  Kipp  from 
the  depths  Oh,  Lordy-oh,  Lordy,  will  I  ever 
get  over  this?"  he  laughed  to  himself.  "I'll  wait 
for  you  at  the  pool!"  he  shouted  up.  "Just  follow 
along  the  tunnel !"  ju"  louow 

His  foot  touched  solid  rock.  He  vas  at  the 
bottom. 

Oh,  Lordy,  was  there  ever  so  fine  a  joke?     The 

tAt\^u-  ''"r^''  ^''  ^'''^  °^  ='«='i"^*  f!^  beams, 
and  bark  his  ankles  m  good  shape.  Teach  .him  to 
reduce  wages.  He'll  know  how  it  feels  nine  hours 
a  day  underground. 

Kipp  doubled  up  with  laughter.  Never  mind' 
Mpp  knew  a  thing  or  two.  He  wouldn't  let  "Silkv" 
tumble  IP f"  fiio 1     L---    1  .  ' 

would  wi 


e  pool,    Kipp  knew  when  to  stop.    He 


It  at  the  margin  of  the  water — th 


sped  through  the  cold,  dark,  slippery  tunnel 


lis  as  he 


at  a 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


164 

run  The  glossy  rocks  jutting  through  the  gloom 
n  massy  figures  took  form  like  gnomes  m  the  l.ght 
ofrintL,  and  retreated  in  the  darkness  as  he 
1.  Then  came  a  swish-as  of  water-K.pp  slack- 
ened  pace  to  a  saunter.  He  saw  the  glass  of  an 
electric  bulb,  tried  to  switch  the  light  on  and  found 
that  the  shock  had  burnt  out  the  wire. 

•■Not  much  oil  in  my  lamp,"   rummated  K.pp, 
"but  'Silky's'  got  the  crack  safety  of  the  mme !    He  s 

'"hc  looked  back  the  tunnel  way  for  sign  of  Saun- 
ders  All  was  darkness.  Kipp  set  to  exammmg 
the  wan  where  they  had  been  drifting  and  cross- 

""Ss  takin'  a  hell  of  a  time,"  remarked  Kipp, 
glandng  toward  the  shaft  again  "but  he  can  break 
his  dirty  neck  'fore  I  go  back  for  h.m. 

The  pool  circled  glassy,  oily,  treacherous   round 

,        nn     Bevond  lay  a  jumbled  mass  where  the 

;:  kTd  cav!;  i^      kipp  became  suddenly  stern 

n  hi"  little   nature   was  one  reverence,   one  only , 

•e  Ince  for  thorough  work;  and  the  botched  heap 

across  the  pool  had  violated  that  reverence. 

TJish  he'd  tumble  down  and  break  h.s  cursed 
n,ean,  cringing  neck!"  piously  l^^^^^fJZ  ,Z 
he  takes  till  Judgment,  I'm  not  go.n  ba  k  tor  h.m 
ni  n,ake  them  pay  up  for  th>s  b  'P-shod  job- 

He   seated  himself  on   a  ledge  of   rock  by  tnc 

!Z-  and  Kipp  had  bitter  thoughts.     Dead  men, 

Th   e-faced  Tn  the  dark  and  mangled  of  !in,h.  have 

fre^roachful  way  of  stamping  themselves  on  mem- 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       .6j 

ory.  You  may  bluff  judge  and  jury,  my  clever  gen- 
tlemen, but  the  dead  faces  will  haunt  your  gloom 
for  many  a  long  day  yet!  It  had  been  dangerous 
work  for  Kipp  to  lead  the  rescue  crtw  along  the 
narrow  ledge  past  the  sink,  but  it  was  worse  to  dig 
the  bodies  out,  wrest  them  limb  from  limb,  from 
weights  no  hands  could  lift!  Kipp  shuddered  as 
he  saw  the  picture  mirrored  again  in  the  murky 
pool. 

"By  God!"  he  swore,  "I'll  make  them  pay  for 
this!— I'll  make  them  pay!— I'll  make  them  pay- 
till — they — squirm !" 

And,  perhaps— who  can  say?— the  puny  oath  of 
shallow  lips  that  never  mentioned  Deity  but  to 
swear— was  registered  and  carried  out  in  ways 
the  little,  narrow  brain  could  never  guess! 

Something  crashed  ....  crashed  ....  rever- 
berated ....  boomed  ....  through  the  mine 
....  fading  in  rocketing  echoes  that  left  the 
vitals  of  the  earth  quiverinrr. 

The  pool  splashed  .  .  .  splashed  dully  up  ...  . 
and  fell  back  trembling! 

"Guess  they're  blasting  in  that  tunnel,"  thought 
Kipp,^  with  a  leap.  "Here's  a  prettv  howdydo! 
Here's  a  nice,  messy  business !  Some  of  that  loose 
rock  will  be  smashin'  in  on  us!" 

Snatching  up  his  lantern  he  ran  for  the  shaft. 

Cut  a  second  crash  came,  louder,  continuous,  with 
a  hollow  roar,  a  sweep  of  choking  dust  and  suffo- 
cating air,  with  a  crash!  .  .  .  crash!  .  .  .  crash! 


1 66 


THE  NEW   DAWN 


.  like  a  fuiillade  of  artillery  1  It  came  from 
the  shaft  in  the  fury  and  ru»h  of  an  avalanche  I 
Kipp'»  heart  stood  .till  1  Cold  sweat  broke  from 
hi,  forehead  and  palms  1  The  roof  of  his  mouth  be- 
came  hotl  He  listened  with  a  sensation  of  burst- 
ing pain  in  his  temples,  in  his  chest,  in  h.s  throat . 
Another  crash-rocketing— roaring-quakmg  through 
the  earth— another— and  another— boundmg  from 
rock  to  rock  with  a  blast  of  dusty  air  that  choked 
and  blinded  Kippl 

"Great  God!"  he  shouted.    "I  here  s  been  a  m.s- 
takel  .   They're   filling   up  the   shaft!      1  hey 

don't  know  we're  down!  Saunders  will  be  done 
for-  and  they'll  blame  me— McGee  saw  me  bring- 
ing him  here!  I  told  McGee  the  joke  I  was  gom 
to  play— "  and  he  rushed  through  the  chokmg  dust, 
shouting,  "Mr.  Saunders!     Mr.  Saunders !"_ 

But  where  was  the  light  of  the  secretary  s  lan- 
tern? Something  crashed  down  overhead,  knocked 
Kipp's  lantern  from  his  hand  and  smashed  the  lamp 
to  atoms.  The  wick  fi/.z-led  out  like  a  match  m 
water.  Kipp  bounded  back  with  the  scream  of  a 
trapped  beast,  back  in  the  pitchy  dark  beyond  reach 
of  the  falling  rocks!  There  was  not  a  sign  of 
Saunders.    Kipp  was  alone. 

Then  Kipp  knew.  _ 

It  came  like  the  flash  of  lightnmg  that  only  il- 
lumines the  greater  darkness. 

"Great  God!  This  is  murder!  .  .  •  this  is  mur- 
der!" he  sobbed,  staggering  backward,  wringing 
his  hands.    "This  is  murder!  .  .  .  this  .s  murder! 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       167 

Then  the  boom  ....  boom  ....  boom  of 
the  rocks  roused  him!  He  would  not  stand  there 
helpless  while  that  hlackguard  filled  in  this  living 
gravel  He  would  not  live  on,  to  die  h\  mrhi-s  in 
the  dark!  He  would  fight  his  way  up.  tl'oufjh  mt 
at  every  step!  ...  He  would  clim^  f,.,t.r  th.in 
the  rocks  could  fall!  .  .  .  He  wdl.i  rise  rrotu 
that  grave  with  the  marks  of  their  ,'  lody  rrinic  I 
Better  be  killed  than  starved!  .  .  .  And  h\  hurled 
himself  with  all  the  agile  strength  (.  (  a  l^asfs  last 
leap  for  life! 

But  it  was  useless.  There  was  not  a  i/li'iniK-r  ot 
daylight  at  the  top  of  the  shaft.  The  opening  was 
now  filled.     The  base  was  solid. 

Kipp  stumbled  off,  weak,  trembling,  sobbing  like 
a  child,  with  mad  hopes  from  tales  he  had  heard 
of  men  carving  their  way  through  solid  prison  walls. 
He  felt  his  pockets;  but  in  changing  his  clothes  hi 
had  not  brought  even  a  knife.  The  rescue  crew,  a 
dead  miner,  might  have  dropped  a  wrench,  or  bar. 
He  went  groping  slowly  through  the  tunnel  way, 
feeling  along  the  oozing  damp  for  iron  or  pick,  say- 
ing ..  .  "Great  God!  .  .  .  This  is  murder  I  .  .  . 
This  is  murder!" 

A  swish  of  waters,  of  waters  going  slowly,  oilily, 
treacherously,  round  and  round — arrested  him  !  It 
was  the  pool!  He  kneeled  forward,  beating  his 
hands  impotently  against  the  rocks.  Then  he  tr'cd 
to  control  himself,  pressing  his  hands  to  his  l;e,id. 
They  were  saturated  with  a  gush  of  warm  blood. 
He  had  been  cut  by  the  falling  rocks. 


i!y 


1 68  THE    NEW    DAWN 

Surely,  when  his  wife,  when  McGee,  the  labor 
delegate,  missed  him,  they  would  think  of  Shaft  lo; 
but  no— he  had  told  them  if  he  did  not  return 
from  the  city  for  six  months  not  to  be  alarmed. 
He  would  "make  the  G.  C.  pay  up,  if  he  had  to 
go  to  Peru."  At  that,  Kipp  fell  to  the  wet  rock, 
weeping.  For  the  only  time  in  his  shallow  life  he 
prayed— prayed  in  wild  ravings,  the  tragic  cry  of 
the  beaten,  the  crushed,  the  defeated  in  life's  strug- 
gle, the  cry  that  has  no  meaning  but  its  own  hope- 
less helplessness! 

And  who  can  say  that  the  cry  was  not  registered 
somewhere  in  the  great  balance  scales  of  cause  and 
effect,  that  weigh  so  finely,   so   relentlessly,   so   rc- 
gardlessly  of  time  and  place  and  forgetfulness,  that 
a  man  often  suffers  at  forty  for  the  .  t  springing 
from  the  unclean  thought  planted  at  twenty?     tor, 
after  praying— expending  his  excitement— Kipp  be- 
came calm  and  did  the  bravest  thing  that  he  had 
ever  done  in  all  the  course  of  his  little-minded,  short, 
shallow  life.     On  the  floor  his  hand  had  dangled 
over  the  edge  of   the  pool.     He   felt  the  current 
sat  up   .   .   .   threw  his   hat   into   the   water. 
Then,  he  reached  out  his  hands  and  felt  the  water- 
soaked  thing  come  sailing  round  in  the  current,     .t 
floated  past,  came  round  again,  below  the  surface, 
more  water-soaked.     Though  he  reached  down  to 
his  armpits  it  did  not  float  round  again.     It  had 
been   carried   away   by    a    current.      Where?      He 
pulled  off  his  smock,  ripped  it  to  strands,  tied  th-    i 
together,  weighted  the  end  with  a  stone,  and  dredged 


may  God  blast  them 
.   .  blast  them  to  ten 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT        169 

the  pool.  The  string  was  sucked,  drawn,  dragged 
gradually  with  irresistible  force  from  his  hand 
....  and  swept  away!  Kipp  sprang  up,  jerking 
off  boots  and  socks. 

"If  I  fail  ...  if  I  fail  . 
down  as  they've  done  me 
thousand  Hells!" 

He  drew  back  five  paces. 

"It's  the  only  chance!" 

With  a  full  breath,  hands  raised  and  a  forward 
dash,  he  dived  down !  There  was  a  plunging  splash. 
Then  the  pool  washed  heavily  back,  with  the  swirl- 
ing ..  .  swirling  ...  of  the  oily  black  ripples, 
round  and  round,  in  an  endless  circle. 

A  litdc  gurgling  bubble  suckled  up  and  escaped 
from  the  oily  surface  of  the  silent  pool.  And  that 
was  the  last  of  Kipp. 


CHAPTER    XII 


THE    CREED   IN   THE    LITTLE    MAN 
WITH  A  CONSCIENCE 

Midway  in  the  descent,  Saunders  paused. 
There  is  an  old  adage  to  the  effect— when  in 
doubt,  don't  1  Unfortunately,  it's  only  applicable 
when 'it's  not  needed;  for  all  that  a  great  deal  of 
deviltry  requires  is  that  the  powers  making  for  good- 
ness should  be  quiescent.  Perhaps,  Saunders  paused 
because  he  repented  of  what  he  had  intended  to  do; 
but  if  he  had  not  hesitated  the  thing  could  not 
have  happened.  _ 

Far  down  in  the  black  depths  of  the  mine,  a  little, 
steel-blue  flame  flickered,  shifted,  and  receded  like 
a  star  ray  on  a  misty  night.  A  chill  swept  up  that 
seemed  to  numb  his  moral  faculties  to  a  torpor. 
It  was  like  eternal  night  .  .  .  eternal  silence  down 
there,  with  only  the  echo  of  the  Creat  Machme- 
Force,  toiling,  driving,  outside  in  the  valley.  I  he 
fellow  was  a  fly  on  the  cog  .  .  •  that  was  it  .  . 
this  engineer  fellow  was  a  gnat  monkeying  with  the 
bu7Z-saw  of  the  Machine-Powers!  Anyway,  who 
took  note  of  the  thousands,  the  millions,  the  ten.  o 
millions  of  fool  creatures  like  the  engineer  fellow. 
170 


THE  CREED  IN  THE  LITTLE  MAN    ,7, 
They  were  born,  and  ate,  and  slept,  and,  sometimes, 

v!^f  «  r'''"'"  """""^  '^'  ^°"^  ^°r  them!-and 
died!  What  d.d  a  little  sooner,  or  a  little  later, 
really  matter? 

A  faint  far,  muffled  call,  like  the  tinkle  of  a  tiny 
bell  .n  a  dome,  or  a  ghost  voice,  came  up  the  shaft 
with  a  taunting  laugh— "Come  on,  sir!" 

"The     fool,"    muttered    Saunders,    chilled    and 
remb  ing  continuing  to  clamber  painfully  down  the 
steep  ladder,  "he  may  tumble  into  the  pool  " 

But  at  the  foot  of  the  first  ladder  was  a  rock 
landing  vvhere  the  shaft  went  out  to  a  ledge  and 
dropped  sheer  as  a  wall.  He  groped  for  the  edge, 
banging  his  ,antern  unhandily.  The  rock  was  slimed 
with  wet.  shaking  and  breathless,  he  peered  over 
the  nm.      The  little  star  flame  shone  fainter 

hnrt  M  L  ''!.  '^°"'''''  ^"''''^y  ^'"  '"'^^  came 
back  blanketed,  deadened. 

He    heard    tU    drop-drop- drop,    cold,    dull, 
measured,  of  water  trkkling  through  the  rocks      It 

TM  tf  \""'  .^'^"■*^""  ^'f  ^'"s«ing.  unfeeling, 
as  the  Machine-  /  h,ng  ouH.-J^.  What  was  life,  any- 
ways bur  a  little  streak  of  ligfit  gir,  round  by  the 
bind  darkness? 

"K-Pp  r  he  shouted.  'Kipp,  you  fool !'  he  hissed 
over  the  ledge  I  hen  to  himself,  "Ward  can  do  his 
own  dirty  work!"  B.t,  in  the  moment  that  he 
hesitated  came  visions  of  the  blank  checks  payable 
to  K.pp  in  Peru.  The  little  flame  below  steadied 
for  an  instant,  then  darted  off  in  the  darkness. 
i>aunders   hstened.      There    was    the   drip-drip- 


172 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


drip,  and  something  more.  What  was  it?  Like 
a  sigh  of  wind!  Kipp  had  called.  Saunders  heard 
only  an  ululating  whisper,  a  soft,  sibilant  lavmg, 
the  wash  as  of  waiters.     It  was  the  pool. 

"Kipp!     Kipp r   shouted  the  secretary. 

A  pebble  c^me  bouncing  from  the  top  of  the 
shaft,  a  pebble  so  easiiy  started,  so  impossible  to 
recall.  Some  of  the  gang  at  the  top  had  stepped 
too  close.  The  stone  bounded  from  side  to  side 
with  light  skipping  echoes  till  it  ricochetted  down 
and  strucli  the  prostrate  form  of  the  secretary.  He 
sprang  up  with  terror,  to  scrabble  up  the  ladder 
with  knocking  knees.  As  he  climbed  the  thought— 
what  if  the  gang  had  begun  to  fill  the  shaft?  Day- 
light fell  on  him  like  a  flood  of  reality  in  a  night- 
mare.    The  strong  bass  voice  of  the  foreman  was 

asking: 

"Was  it  you,  sir?  You've  had  a  narrow  escape! 
I  knowed  vou  sent  for  us  to  heave  her  full.  Mr. 
Kipp  bcin'awav,  if  you  hadn't  given  pertic'ler  or- 
ders about  waitin'  I'd  'a'  filled  her  up!  I  didn't 
know  no  one  was  such  a  fool  as— as  to  go  down 
that  dang'rous  hole,  ii  you'll  excuse  my  sayin'  so— 

sir!"  . 

"Oh,"  observed  the  secretary,  staggering  to  hrm 

ground. 

"Mr.  Kipp  hadn't  ought  to  let  you  go  alone,  sir! 
But  Kipp's  been  bitter  against  the  comp'y  since  the 
accident."  . 

"Alone!"  gasped  Ohadiah.  "No,  1  certainly 
should  not  have   goiic-alonc !      It's  used   me   up. 


'fMMnm^'^rMim  m^  '-m' 


THE  CREED  IN  THE  LIITLE  MAN    ,73 

Air  was  vile.  Do  any  of  you  happen  to  know  just 
^■here  Mr.  Kipp  .  .  .  i,?"  asked  the  secretary,  vis- 
il)ly  chattering  and  white  to  the  lips. 

"Gone  to  town,  sir,  about  some  quarrel  with  the 
compyl     Better  go  and  take  a  drink,  sir!     It's  a 
groggy  place  with  memory  o'  all  them  dead  miners 
as  1  seen  'em  last.     Wull  I  give  the  word  to  heave 
her  up? 

Saunders  looked  blank.     It  was  so  much  cj  .ier 
to  set  the  stone   rolling  than   to  stop  it  half-way 

"Heave  her  up!"  ordt-rej  the  foreman,  not  wait- 
mg  for  instructions. 

.And  Saunders  smiled  a  smile  with  his  yellow  lips 
that  was  not  good  to  see.  Ihen,  he  hurried  to  the 
bunk  house  to  change  his  clothes.  The  changing 
was  difficult.  His  hands  shook  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  grasp  the  buttons.  He  drew  a  small  flask 
from  his  pocket  and  drained  Ir  to  the  dregs.  Then, 
he  jerked  the  miner's  suit  oft  somehow.  When  the 
sound  of  falling  rocks  no  longer  reached  the  bunk 
house,  Saunders  was  saying— "Thank  God,  I  didn't 
doit!  I  didn't  give  the  order!  I  could  tell  Ward 
that  he  suicided;  but  then,  there  are  the  checks  for 
Peru!     I  hank  God,  I  didn't  do  it!" 

AW  of  which— as  Saunders  knew— was  to  silence 
a  voice  within  that  spoke  louder  than  that  crashing 
thud  of  rocks  hurling  down  Shaft  10.  Saunders  had 
always  succeeded  in  deceiving  others.  That  was 
bad.     Then,   he  began  to   succeed  in  hoodwinking 


himself.     That  was  tv 


himself  into  beli 


orse.     Nc 
eving  that  he  might 


deceived 
evade  conse- 


174 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


quencet — or  in  Christian  phraseology,  hoodwink 
God.  That  was  worst.  It  was  hopeless.  It  took 
for  granted  that  the  Ruler  of  the  universe  was  a 
fool;  or  that  you  could  depend  on  chance,  which  is 
a  contradiction. 

When  he  was  at  las?  dressed,  a  new  and  horrible 
uncertainty  possessed  him.     If  he  kept  away,  that 
might  create  suspicio.  ,     (Suspicion  of  what — he  did 
not  ask.     That  is  where  self-cxcusing  is  accusing; 
a  sort  of  supposition  that  God  winks.)     And  if  he 
went  out,  a  fear  gripped  him  by  the  throat  of  some- 
thing gashed  and  bruised,  climbing  from  the  rocks, 
clotted  with  blood.     He  had  not  calculated  on  that 
form  forever  running  before  him  in  the  dark;  for- 
ever hounding  him  like  a  shadow  in  the  light.     He 
shut  his  eyes.     It  was  still  there,  a  dotted  phantom 
haunting  eternity.     Would  it  always  be  like  that? 
He  felt  as  if  something  had  blotted  out  heaven, 
and   earth,    and  sunshine,    and   life — like    a    great, 
heavy  cloud,   the   cloud  of  his   own  consciousness. 
Then,  the  old  lines  came  to  memory:     "If  I  make 
my  bed  in  Hell.     Thou  art  there."     Pshaw  1     The 
secretary  did  not  purpose  going  mad  over  one  fool 
the  more  or  less;  for  the  liquor  was  mounting  to 
h^     bloodless  brain,  his  colorless  lips.     Then,  like 
c-  tain  types  of  degenerate  criminals  who  can  laugh 
at  a  lynching  and  crack  jokes  over  their  blackest 
deeds— he  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  hys- 
terically.    A  devilish  suggestion  possessed  him  that 
if  the  echo  of  that  laughter  reached  Hell  it  would 
frighten  the  Grim  Fear  there.     You  see,  Obadiah 


THE  CREED  IN  THE  LITTLE  MAN    175 

was  still  disturbed  by  a  conscience,  or  a  sense  of 
self-reproach— call  it  what  you  willl  If  he  had 
not  been,  he  would  no  more  have  laughed  at  Kipp'i 
end  than  he  would  have  at  the  destruction  of  a  per- 
sistent gnat.  It  was  the  sense  of  self-reproach  that 
made  him  defiant  and  hysterical. 

He  cautiously  drew  aside  the  glazed  blind  of  the 
bunk  house.  The  rocks  were  heaped  above  the 
shaft.  A  miner  was  jamming  at  them  with  a  crow- 
bar. The  heap  sagged  and  sank.  Saunders  drew 
a  sigh  of  relief.  More  rocks  went  down.  Again, 
the  man  pried  with  the  crow-bar.  This  time  the 
pile  did  not  budge.  It  was  solid.  It— whatever 
"it"  meant  to  the  secretary— could  never  come  up, 
now.  He  stopped  trembling.  He  walked  across 
to  the  gang  with  the  jaunty  swagger  of  exaggerated 
self-possession  that  always  betrays  what  it  hides. 
That  is— he  was  self-possessed  for  the  fraction  of 
a  second.  Then,  his  eye  fell  on  a  man  in  blue 
overalls,  a  fellow  with  shock  hair,  bushy  brows,  and 
eyes  capable  of  either  fanaticism  or  crime.  The 
fellow  looked  at  the  secretary  curiously,  meditat- 
ively, insolently.  All  the  wild  blood  of  the  tiger 
surged  to  the  soft-spoken  secretary's  manner. 

"Foreman,  nlio  is  this  fellow?" 

"I'll  answer,  boss,"  cut  in  the  man.  "I'm  Mc- 
Gee,  the  I.  W.  W.  man  sent  by  the  G.  S.  to  the 
Truesdale  mines  to  get  the  men  to  join  our  union. 
Mebbe,  you've  forgotten,  sir?  You  were  with 
KippI" 

"Ah— to  be  sure!     Yes— yes!"  agreed  Obadiah. 


m  4 


176 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


It  may  be  supposed  that  the  trapped  tiger  does 
not  lose  its  cunning.  As  Saunders  hurried  to  catch 
his  train  he  yet  took  time  to  call  at  Kipp's  cottage. 

"Is  Mr.  Kipp  in?"  he  languidly  asked  a  sallow 
woman  with  her  hair  in  curl  papers. 

"How  d'y'  do,  ;  '  .^ter  Saunders,"  simpered  the 
curl  papers,  with  mi  :  bow  and  the  smirk  of  a  ballet 
dancer.  "Kipp  ■r  s  goin'  t'  the  city  to  see  you  to- 
day?"    The  curl  papers  smiled  very  confidentially. 

Being  nothing,  if  not  confidential,  Obadiah  smiled 
back.  "If  y'  didn't  see  Kipp,  I  guess  'e'  s'  gone 
to  see  you  ...  to  see  you,  about  Peru,  you  know?" 
laughed  the  curl  papers. 

"Ah,  about  Peru,  Mrs.  Kipp,  very  good,"  lisped 
Obadiah  with  a  melting  smile  as  he  politely  lifted 
his  hat  and  held  it  deferentially  in  his  hand.  "Did 
.  .  .  did  ...  he  say  he  would  object  to  my  giving 
you  your  share  ...  of  the  money  ...  of  the  sal- 
ary that  is  to  go  to  Peru?"  inquired  Obadiah  softly. 

"Why,  no — 'e  didn't,  Mr.  Saunders,"  smiled  the 
curl  papers.  Mentally,  the  curl  papers  had  decided 
"  'e  was  all  right:  and  'e'd  call'd,"  she  guessed,  "to 
bring  the  money  himself!" 

"Vt-ry  good  ....  he  has  gone  to  the  city  to 
see  me  about  the  mines  in  Peru,  Mrs.  Kipp"  (You 
must  know,  it  was  not  what  he  said,  but  the  way  he 
said  it.  Mrs.  Kipp  afterwards  told  a  friend  that 
"She  was  tickled  all  over.")  "I'll  bring  the  money 
out,  myself.  Misses  Kipp  .  .  .  and  ....  it  would 
he  iust  as  well  not  to  create  jealousy  among  the 
engineers  by  talking  about  the  little  arrangement." 


THE  CREED  IN  THE  LITTLE  MAN     ,77 

I    "?^^■   ■    '  *^"'   '   "'"''   ""•    '^''■-   Saunders," 
laughed  the  curl  papers,  knowingly,  volubly 

"I  hope  I  see  you  z-ery  well,  iM,s.  Kipp!     You 

look  remnrkcbly   well,    Mrs.    Kipp!      Dear  me,    I 

thought  K.pp,  the  lucky  d-.g,  was  older!     I  shall  see 

you  again,  Mrs.  Kipp.     I  hid  you  good-day.-     His 

voice  lingered  softly.     So  did  his  look. 

Mrs.  Kipp  confided  to  a  friend  afterwards  that 

Kipp  could  say  >vhat  he  liked!  She  didn't  care! 
Men  were  always  jealous;  but  Mister  Saunders  uas 
a  deJiglitsome  gentleman!" 

"Say,    McGee,   he   was   sort   o'    sawed-off   short 
with  you,     remarked  the  foreman  to  the  walking 
de  egate.       I  thought  you  were  working  at  Trues 
dales  mines  to  get  the  fellows  to  join  us?" 

"So  I  am;  but  I  came  across  to  fish." 

"Ain't  it  early  for  fishin'?" 

"Not  for  suckers,"  said  McGee. 

"Say,  when  you're  fishin'  down  there,  keep  your 
eyes  open  for  things,  clothes,  you  know !  Might  eit 
em  on  your  hook!  We  had  an  accident,  you 
know;  less  said  the  better;  but  there's  a  current  out 
to  the  river  irom  this  shaft  somewheres !    So  long  1" 


PART   III 
POWER    MILITANT 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   CREED  THAT  THE   GREATER    POWER   WINS 

By  the  time  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  had  finished 
dressing,  daylight  had  dispelled  all  dreams.  He 
was  quite  as  ready  as  Ward  to  ignore  all  obstacles 
to  fortune.  Woman's  influence  on  man's  affairs- 
he  soliloquized— was  like  opium:  an  enchantment  at 
the  beginning,  followed  by  hallucinations  and  the 
sleep  of  profound  indifference  that  awakened  to  one 
of  two  things— flatness,  or  frenzy.  In  a  word,  it 
was  easier  to  resist  a  woman's  influence  away  from 
her.  It  was  like  the  opium :  you  did  not  realize  the 
spell  till  strength  to  resist  was  bewitched. 

Thirty  million  wcs  a  large  amount,  even  as  for- 
tunes were  reckoned  at  the  beginning  of  the  new 
century;  and  the  prospect  appealed  to  Truesdale  as 
strongly  as  to  Ward.  It  would  not  all  come  to 
him  There  were  the  other  shareholders;  but  such 
a  dividend  would  enhance  the  company's  stock  so 
that  it  could  be  Increased  a  hundred-fold  without 
the  addition  of  another  dollar.  The  sale  of  the 
178 


THE  GREATER  POWER  WINS      179 

increased  stock  would  mean  a  great  deal  inure  to 
Mr.  Jack  7'ruesdale,  personally,  than  those  thirty 
millions.  Ward  had  justified  the  increase  of  stock 
on  the  ground  of  affording  the  buying  public  an 
opportunity  to  share  in  the  enormous  profits.  That 
opportunity  hinged  on  the  promoters  selling  their 
stock;  an  odd  proceeding — as  human  nature  is  con- 
stituted— considering  that  the  stock  was  so  very 
valuable.  Ward  preferred  coin  to  the  beautifully 
engrossed  shares  of  his  company's  stock.  The  in- 
crease in  the  cost  of  fuel  and  steamship  rates  was 
to  be  so  small  that  it  would  scarcely  be  felt  by  the 
pub'ic;  and,  after  all,  business  was  business.  It  was 
neither  charity  nor  religion. 

The  public  must  pay  high  or  go  cold;  and  as 
Truesdale's  comrade  of  the  orchard  with  the  gM 
mist  had  said — there  was  not  much  difference  be- 
tween that  and  putting  a  pistol  to  a  man's  head  while 
you  picked  his  pockets.  But,  then,  what  was  all 
business,  in  its  last  analysis,  but  the  getting  of  as 
much  as  possible  for  as  little  as  possible?  Women, 
like  Madeline,  were  unfit  to  deal  with  complicated 
questions.  They  viewed  life  too  emotionally,  too 
personally.  They  would  persist  in  obtruding  ques- 
tions of  a  personal  nature  into  things  as  impersonal 
as  arithmetic.  The  new  century  had  another  foun- 
dation of  values  than  the  old  narrowness.  It  was 
the  survival  of  the  fit — of  the  strong — the  weeding 
out  of  the  unfit,  the  weak.  Still,  he  must  not  be  too 
hard  on  Madeline.  She  could  not  shut  her  eyes  to 
facts,  because  she  was  up  against  them;  because 


MICROCOfY   RESOlUriON   IfST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0     [ee  IIIIIM 

_ii_  1"^  i^ 

^  ^^^  m 

11-25  iu    1.6 


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^=  (716)    288  -  5989  -  Fa* 


i8o 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


she  was  the  underdog,  the  other  dog  had  no  right 
to  throttle  her.  Just  how  he  would  have  felt,  if  he 
had  been  the  underdog,  Truesdale  did  not  consider. 
He  was  determined  that  he — for  one — never  would 
become  the  underdog.  Vaguely,  in  the  back  of  his 
mind,  was  the  belief  that  the  fear  of  becoming  the 
underdog  was  an  excellent  stimulus  to  effort:  it  was 
the  whip  lash  of  individual  effort,  ambition,  suc- 
cess— this  pervasive  fear  of  Want:  it  kept  a  man 
from  sinking  to  the  nothingism  of  the  oriental.  The 
men  not  stimulated  by  this  fear  deserved  to  be  the 
underdog,  needed  the  lash  of  Want  to  keep  them 
from  reverting  to  the  animalism  of  the  jungle. 

Truesdale's  offices  were  on  the  top  story  of  the 
Rookery  Building,  near  the  ocean  front.  A  net- 
work of  electric  wires  curved  within  a  hand  length 
of  the  window  by  his  desk.  Day  and  night,  there 
was  the  same  humming  and  monotonous  sound. 
What  was  the  burden  of  its  endless  monotone,  the 
chant  of  the  wires,  rising  .  .  .  falling,  rising  .... 
falling,  with  the  rhythmic  ebb  of  a  tide?  It  was 
like  the  chorus  of  a  World  of  Work  to  a  God  of 
Traffic,  with  the  roar  of  the  city  encompassing  the 
whole  diapason  of  human  effort.  Why  should  One 
Man  ....  one  puny  man,  the  feebler  for  being 
alone  ....  oppose  such  a  Force?  .  .  .  Pshaw! 
What  did  women  know  of  the  Great  World  Forces 
....  the  Machine-Things  with  the  human  beings 
on  the  wheels? 

Truesdale  threw  back  the  roller  top  of  his  desk 
with  a  bang,  and  wheeled  his  chair  for  work;  yet 


THE  GREATER  POWER  WINS      i8i 

something  restrained  him  sending  the  acceptance, 
which  President  Ward  was  expecting.  The  scruples 
of  old  methods  he  had  cast  aside.  It  was  deeper 
than  scruples.  It  was  the  blood  of  generations;  the 
hard-headed  belief  that  a  great-dcal-of-snmethhig 
taken  from  others  for  a  great-dcal-of-nnthing  is  akin 
to  theft;  the  vague  uneasiness  of  inherited  rights 
that,  if  he  attacked  the  rights  of  others,  that  might 
open  the  way  to  a  revolutionary  attack  on  his  ozvn 
vested  rights.  He  explained  to  himself  that  the  busi- 
ness world  was  a  give-and-take  affair.  Ward's 
scheme  was  a  little  too  much  "take"  without  any 
"give." 

first,  he  examined  the  stock  reports  of  his  private 
ticker.  Truesdale's  mines  had  advanced  on  the 
prospect  of  consolidation.  Slitting  open  the  largest 
envelope  on  his  desk  he  drew  out  a  long  stamped 
document. 

"By  George!"  he  exclaimed.  "We  are  not  to  be 
allowed  to  stand  apart.     The  .  .   .  fight  is 

.  .  .  on!" 

In  response  to  the  touch  of  the  electric  button, 
a  thin,  gray-whiskered  man  of  precise  manners  and 
perfectly  fitting  clothes  entered  the  office. 

"Rawlins!  What  in  thunder  is  the  meaning  of 
this  lawsuit?  W^hat  in  thunder  have  we  been  tak- 
ing coal  from  the  Great  Consolidated's  tunnels  for?" 

The  manager  smiled  dryly. 

"The  meaning — do  you  ask?  They  are  going  to 
hit  first!  They've  blundered  into  our  veins;  they 
are  going  to  protect  themselves  by  suing  first."   The 


l82 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


manager  spoke  in  a  little,  attenuated,  sandpapered 
voice  liice  a  gramophone — a  man  with  the  red-blood 
ground  out  by  business  Machine.  Rawlins  glanced 
significantly  at  the  stock  ticker.  "I  fancy  the  suit 
will  never  go  to  court,"  he  added.  "I  fancy  it's  for 
a  purpose,  Mr.  Truesdale." 

'I  see,"  said  Truesdale.  "All  the  stocks  took 
a  jump  from  the  rumor  of  amalgamation.  Ours 
are  to  be  hammered.     Then  ....  what?" 

7"hc  gray-whiskered  manager  sat  down,  crossed 
his  knees,  stroked  a  crease  from  a  trousers  leg. 

"What  next  will  depend  on  what  yuti  decide,  Mr. 
Truesdale." 

"Suppose  I  do — well? — nothing!  Suppose  I  do 
as  my  forefathers  have  done  before  me?  Suppose 
I  stand  aloof?" 

"Can't  do  it!  Can't  play  that  game!"  cut  in  the 
manager,  still  occupied  with  the  trousers  crease. 
"Can't  stand  aloof  in  this  age!  If  you  hang  back 
with  a  suit  pending,  your  scattered  stock  is  going  to 
drop  right  down  to  rock  bottom  with  a  bang !  The 
small  investor  will  go  panicky.  They'll  call  you 
the  wrecker,  not  Ward.  Are  you  prepared  to  buy 
all  the  stock  that's  offered — keep  things  from  touch- 
ing rock  bottom?  If  you're  not.  Ward  will  do  the 
buying  when  things  hit  bed  rock — then — where,  do 
you  think,  you  are?  You  are  in  his  grip — that's 
where  you  are!  You  are  the  deciding  voice  in  this 
thing,  now/  All  the  small  investors  have  made  you 
their  proxy.  What  are  they  going  to  say  if  your 
decision  brings  an  attack  from  Ward?     They're 


THE  GREATER  POWEK  WINS      183 

going  to  sell  and  scuttle  out;  that's  what  they're 
going  to  do.  And  devil  taice  the  hindermost — that's 
you !  You  can't  stand  neutral  with  Ward.  It's  like 
the  devil — you've  got  to  fight,  or  go  with  him " 

"But  what  would  the  proxies  say  to  me  if  I  sold 
them  out  to  Ward;  and  they  found  themselves  bil- 
lion  dollar   capitalists,   with   the   dollars 

mostly  paper  and  water?" 

"That's  no  concern  of  yours,  Mr.  Truesdale! 
You  make  your  pile  and  you  crawl  out  before  the 
smash  comes!" 

His  opinion  of  those  sentiments  Truesdale  did 
not  express.  He  was  aware  that  he  must  choose 
either  war  with  the  likelihood  of  defeat,  or  peace  at 
the  price  of  an  old-fashioned  and  out  of  date  con- 
sideration called  "honor." 

"About  this  suit,  Rawlins?  You  think  it"  iluff 
to  hammer  the  stocks  down?  How  do  you  Know 
they've  been  poaching  on  our  ground?" 

"A  person  knows  a  good  deal  that  can't  be  proved, 
Mr.  True-  'ale.  When  that  Kipp  fellow,  the  engi- 
neer whi.  is  dismissed  from  the  Great  Consoli- 
dated, came  to  me  for  work,  he  offered  to  sell  in- 
formation about  Ward's  mines.  The  accident  hap- 
pened. Presto  I  Kipp  is  reengaged  and — mark," 
the  manager  paused,  glancing  sharply  at  his  chief — 
"Shaft  10  was  filled  to  the  top  last  week,  and  Kipp 
has  disappeared;  gone  to  Peru  to  examine  mines 
there." 

"It's  a  damnably  ugly  piece  of  business,"  he  mut- 
tered,   thoroughly  convinced   that   a   great-deal-of- 


1 84 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


something  for  a  great-deal-of-nothing  was  poor  busi- 
ness for  one  side,  no  matter  what  the  wires  said. 

"There  is  one  way  out  of  it,  True!  When  1 
couldn't  thrash  a  boy  at  school,  I  made  a  point  of 
not  quarreling  with  him." 

Truesdale  heard  the  wires  again. 

"We're  to  beat  or  be  beaten,  Rawlins!" 

"That's  it." 

"We  were  never  in  a  better  condition  to  stand 
attack,  Rawlins!  If  we  don't  advance  prices,  we 
get  the  trade " 

"fVe?"  interrupted  the  manager  ironically. 
"There  will  be  no  'we'  by  the  time  Ward  finishes 
with  you " 

"But  I  tell  you  we  are  exceptionally  strong. 
There  is  no  sense  in  the  small  holders  selling " 

"But  I  tell  yoii  they  will  sell  if  prices  «ag," 
averred  Rawlins.  "If  you  break  wiih  t'le  Great 
Consolidated,  it's  a  case  of  the  fellow  with  the  most 
money  winning  out.  There  is  no  rule  to  forbid  a 
foul  in  this  game!  Kipp  told  me  the  I.  W.  W. 
delegate,  McGee,  had  won  over  most  of  your  men 
already.  If  Ward's  miners  strike,  yours  strike  in 
sympathy;  so  you  can't  play  the  game  alone  while 
he  is  shut  down !  I  tell  you  neither  labor  nor  capital 
can  stand  apart  now!  It's  get  together  on  both 
sides,  and  light  to  the  death !  Why,  for  the  past 
week  your  salesmen  have  been  followed  by  Ward's 
everywhere,  offering  lower  prices  to  cut  us  out,  while 
the  old  schedule  rules  where  our  men  haven't  gone! 
The  G.  C.  can  only  keep  track  of  our  men  in  one 


THE  GREATER  POWER  WINS      185 

way.  They  are  getting  reports  of  shipments  from 
the  railroads.  War^  is  getting  rebates.  He  is 
under-cutting  you  by  what  he  saves  from  the  rail- 
roads. You  can't  fight  that  son  of  thing!  It's 
a  blood-sucking  business!  While  you're  floundering 
round  honorably  and  in  the  open,  ycur  enemy  is 
sucking  your  blood  by  what  he  saves  from  the  rail- 
roads. And  Ward  has  a  hand  in  half  the  railroads 
—how  are  you  going  to  stop  it,  or  prove  it,  or  get 
redress?  On  the  surface,  it's  all  perfectly  legal, 
understand—!/  is  all  perfectly  legal.  By  just  so 
much  as  he  ruins  you,  are  his  profits  the  greater! 
And  it's  all  legal,  perfectly  legal,  understand— on 
the  surface,  perfectly  legal  1  If  I  may  offer  advice, 
I'd  kow-tow  in  time,  True !  In  business,  you've  got 
to  get  there,  no  matter  how  I  You  don't  stand  on 
ceremony,  nor  sanctimony  either.  I'd  kow-tow  in 
time;  knuckle  under  gracefully;  secure  your  pile; 
crawl  out!" 

"Thank  you,  Rawlins,"  replied  Truesdale  shortly, 
and  the  manager  left  the  office. 

The  blood  of  the  generations,  of  the  vested 
rights,  of  the  wealth  held  as  a  sacred  trust  not  as  a 
tyranny,  of  the  inheritance  hard-won  and  hard-held 
by  three  generations— did  not  course  particularly 
peacefully  through  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale's  veins 
for  some  little  time  after  the  manager  left  the  of- 
fice. "Kow-tow  tn  time— knuckle  under  gracefully 
—secure  your  pile— and  crawl  oh/"— that  was  the 
advice  of  a  life-long  servant.  Rawlins  had  voiced 
the  sentiments  of  a  money-getting  age;  but  they 


i86 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


were  distinctly  the  sentiments  of  a  servant,  the  senti- 
ments of  a  cringing  reptile  morality. 

"No — Iiy  God  I"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  with  a 
resounding  blow  of  his  clenched  fist  on  the  roller- 
top  desk,  "I'll— ^<?////" 

All  the  sophistries  of  high  finance  were  suddenly 
eclipsed  by  the  primordial  instinct  which  resents  witli 
a  certain  savagery  of  fury,  that  possessions  hard- 
won  and  honestly  held  should  be  wrested  away  by 
a  trick.  His  creed  was  the  creed  of  the  Stroiipr. 
That  other  man  must  show  himself  stronger.  H': 
believed  that  the  great  crime  of  life  was  to  be  weak. 
He  did  not  purpose  being  guilty  ff  that  crime.  To 
his  creed  of  Strength  his  sudden  resolution  had 
added — Will !  The  chance  of  fortune  still  allured 
him;  but  across  the  brightness  of  its  promise  fell  a 
shadow,  a  shadow  of  doubt  whether  the  creed  of 
victory  to  the  Strong  would  prove  satisfying  if  he 
were  the  vanquished. 

A  gentle  rap  sounded  from  the  door. 

"Come  inl" 

The  door  opened  apologetically,  and  softly  closed. 
A  felted  tread  crossed  the  carpet.  Ihere  was  a 
lubricating  of  palms,  like  a  feline  licking  of  cream, 
or  fur. 

"Good  morning!  Don't  let  me  interrupt,"  im- 
plored the  blandishing  voice  of  Obadiah  Saunders. 

Truesdale  wheeled  with  all  the  ferocity  <  f  the 
primitive  man  facing  stealth.  Obadiah's  manner 
wore  a  new  jauntiness  of  defiance  which  betrayed 
something    concealed.     He    wriggled    and    smiled 


THE  GREATER  POWER  WINS      187 

faintly,  and  wriggled,  and  the  smile  died  in  a  wreath 
among  perfumed  whisicers.  He  patted  a  temple 
lock  into  well-licked  conformity  with  the  other  hairs 
of  his  head.  He  drew  his  white  hand  down  his 
flossy  beard.  He  fastened  and  unfastened  the  top 
button  of  his  coat.  He  pulled  his  cuff  an  eighth  of 
an  inch  farther  down  his  sleeve,  severely  contem- 
plated the  effect,  and  shoved  it  back.  Conversation 
was  not  opening  auspiciously.  Evidently,  this 
young  man  would  have  to  "be  drawn."  And  the 
drawing  must  be  done  "judiciously."  Obadiah 
never  forgot  the  keynote  of  his  morality. 

Mr.  Saunders  expressed  the  mild  hope  that  Mr. 
Truesdale  had  not  taken  offence  from  the  service 
of  the  notice  about  the  lawsuit,  nodding  at  the  open 
envelope,  and  rubbing  invisible  dust  from  his  coat. 

Mr.  Truesdale  smiled.  Not  the  slightest  of- 
fence; business  was  business — an  expression  which 
emboldened  Obadiah  Saunders. 

If  Mr.  Truesdale  would  come  over  to  the  office 
of  the  Great  Consolidated  the  little  matter  could 
easily  be  arranged — this  with  a  resigned  folding  of 
the  confidential  secretary's  hands. 

But  Mr.  Truesdale  struck  a  match  to  light  a 
cigar  without  vouching  any  reply. 

"It  was  all  the  fault  of  that  blockhead  of  an 
attorney,"  complained  the  secretary  in  aggrieved 
voice.  "The  president  had  forgotten  to  inform 
the  attorney  of — of,"  Obadiah  hemmed  and  drew 
his  hand  through  his  beard,  "of  the  little  arrange- 
ment among  the  three  companies." 


i88 


THE    NliVV    DAWN 


Trues  Jale  asked  Obadiah  if  he  would  have  a 
cigar. 

"If  you  will  ol)ser\,  the  notice  you  will  see  that 
the  suit  is  dated  before  the  agreement."  The  secre- 
tary licked  his  lips. 

Truesdale  smiled  to  see  that  the  date  lied  as  un- 
blushingly  as  the  secretary. 

Saunders  leaned  confidentially  nearer. 

"I  have  not  been  authorized  to  tell  you  I  In 
fact,  it  is  hardly  fair  to  President  Ward  for  me  to 
tell  you-  but,  in  passing,  I  took  the  liberty  of  calling 
to  give  you  a  friendly  tip." 

Truesdale  removed  his  cigar. 

"When  you  have  finished  running  all  round  it, 
Saunders,  call  again  and  tell  me  what  you  have  to 
say." 

Mr.  Saunders  sat  back  with  a  jerk. 

"Mr.  Truesdale,  the  other  companies  had  prac- 
tically closed  on  the  understanding  you  would  come 
in." 

"That  was  a  misunderstanding."  Truesdale  pre- 
pared to  go  on  opening  his  letters. 

"It's  a  serious  blow  to  find  you  have  changed 
your  mind,"  bridled  the  secretary. 

"I  haven't!  It  would  be  a  serious  blow  to  the 
public  if  I  did!" 

"Public?  Come!  Come!  Are  you  not  a  part  of 
the  public?  Your  shareholders  are  an  iviportant 
part  of  the  public."  Obadiah  prided  himself  on 
words  that  had— as  he  put  it— "a  sting  in  their 
tail." 


THE  G-FATER  POWER  WINS      189 

The  young  man's  hands  twitched.  He  rccoe- 
m/.cd  the  threat  against  the  stock  of  his  company. 
I  he  dulcet  tones  continued  pleading 

"Considered  judiciously,  wlien  you  forward  your 
««•«  interests,  you  forward  the  interests  of  the  pub- 

It  was  a  trifle;  but  the  secretary  observed  that 
the  sleeve  of  Iruesdale's  coat  suddenly  exposed  an 
increase  of  white  ?uft. 

"Do  you  suppose  that  we  co  ihi  do  all  we  do  for 
chanty,   unless  we  looked  after  orr  own  interests 

"Hm!"  said  'I'rucsdale. 

"Speaking  frankly "  continued  the  confiden- 

tial  man. 

"Hm!"  smiled  Truesdale;  "in  the  history  of  a 
somewnat  ancient  world,  charity  has  always  been 
somewhat  cheaper  than  justice." 

"Our  companies  would  value  a  square  statement 
of  your  attitude." 

"I'd  value  a  frank  statement  on  that  mining  suit, 
myself,"  retorted  the  other.  "You  have  prospered 
without  me  m  the  past.  You  are  amply  able  to 
do  so  ,n  the  future— that  is  my  answer." 

Amply,"  softly  assented  S-unders  with  a  smile, 
but,  can  ynu  prosper  withoui  us?" 
Something   feline  glinted   from   the   beady  eves, 
from  the  quiet,  smiling  treachery. 

"Is  that  what  you  came  to  say?"  demanded 
'  ruesdale. 

"That  is  what  I  say,  now  r  am  here."    Saunders 


190 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


rose  languorously.  "By  hoIdinR  back,  you  are  in- 
terfering with  our  plans;  pnd,  even  for  interference, 
it's  customary  to  rentier  a  riuid  pro  quo."  He  paused 
at  the  door,  expectant  of  results. 

Again,  the  white  cuff  of  the  young  man's  sleeve 
shot  down. 

"Speaking  judiciously,  Mr.  Truesdale " 

"Oh,  cut  it  short,  Saunders;  but,  tell  me — if  it's 
judicious — where — is — Kippf" 

And  Obadiah  backed  out  yellow  to  the  lips,  mut- 
tering of  "Peru." 

.And  for  the  rest  of  the  day  Truesdale  went  about 
light  h<artcdly.  Once,  he  took  out  a  memorandum 
book  and  wrote  from  memory  some  words  of  a 
famous  lecture  that  he  had  heard.  The  words  were 
these: 

"He,  for  one,  will  fight,  and  ever  fight,  whatever  the  is- 
sue. .  .  . 

"He  hears  the  loud  yelp  of  the  Fenis  wolf  coming  ever 
nearer.  .  .  . 

"Ht  sees  the  powers  of  ancient  darkness  gathering  stonily 
imminent.  .  .  . 

"On  the  face  of  f^oki.  the  smile  of  triumph.  .  .  . 

"No  hope  hut  the  impending  doom;  yet  undaunted  he 
goes  forth,  mi,;htier  in  his  mood  than  the  dements  that  seek 
to  engulf  him." 


CHAPTER    XIV 


THE   CREKI)   I\    A    VVIFE 

Family  dinner  was  a  ponderous  affair  at  the 
Wards'.  Ward  nt/er  confided  business  to  his  wife, 
;uul  Inisiness  was  never  absent  from  his  mind.  When 
the  f-n  shyness  of  the  big,  forceful  man  'ho  was 
her  husband  had  worn  off,  a  cynical  set  of  the 
humorous  relieved  Mrs.  Ward  from  futile  endeav- 
ors to  nuike  talk;  but  there  is  a  limit  to  a  sense  of 
the  humorous;  and  Mrs.  Wa.d  gave  over  the  ex- 
periment of  seeing  for  how  many  meals  in  succession 
her  husband  and  herself  could  sit  down  without  a 
single  remark.  She  was  afraid  to  bring  youth  and 
light  and  laughter  to  enliven  their  dull  lives;  for 
they  did  not  come  into  his  scheme  of  cultivating 
only  what  was  of  advantage.  Once,  at  the  end  of 
such  an  experiment,  she  had  thrown  down  her  armoi 
of  disdain  with  the  somewhat  unexpected  question: 
"Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Tom,  that  meals  were 
for  something  b.-sides  eating?" 

"What's  that.?"  returned  Ward,  setting  down  his 
wine  glass  and  pushing  some  salted  almonds  across 
to  his  wife.  He  had  been  absently  scanning  a  tele- 
gram.    "Meals  for  something  besit 


ating?    No 


igi 


192 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


— it  never  did;  and  a  deal  of  good  time  eating 
wastes,  too." 

Mrs.  Ward  toyed  with  her  rings,  letting  the  red 
light  of  the  heavily  shaded  chandeliers  fall  at  dif- 
ferent angles  on  her  engagement  ring.  It  was  a 
pigeon-blood  ruby  of  a  bean-size,  full  of  fiery  rays 
that  eclipsed  the  plain  wedding  band  below. 

"I  won'ler,"  she  said  quietly,  with  a  flash  of 
amusement,  "I  woiider,  I  really  do  wonder  why 
men  like  you  ever  marry." 

Ward  crumpled  the  telegram  in  his  hand  and 
looked  across  the  table  to  see  tears  on  the  heavy 
lashes  of  his  wife's  averted  eyes. 

"Pshaw — Louie!  What  is  there  to  bother 
about?" 

'"That  is  just  it,  Tom !  There  is  nothing — abso- 
lutely nothing!     I  have  drawn  a  blank!" 

If  she  had  said  "drawn  a  blank  check,"  Ward 
could  have  understood;  for,  in  matters  of  money, 
blank  checks  were  what  his  wife  enjoyed  with  the 
option  of  filling  in  any  amount.  What  more  could 
a  woman  want?  He  strummed  impatiently  on  the 
table,  studying  her  face.  White  as  marble  in  the 
red  light  of  the  chandeliers,  framed  in  the  fluff  of 
soft,  black  hair,  with  the  blue  reticulation  of  veins 
showiiijT  plainly  in  temples  and  quivering  lips  and 
neck  held  at  the  poise  of  unbreakable  pride,  and 
white  hands  almost  diaphanous  in  the  reflection  of 
a  near  candle — Ward's  wife  was  a  picture,  and 
Ward  was  a  good  judge  of  pictures.  He  decided 
that,  even  if  she  had  what  he  mentally  called  "tan- 


THE   CREED   IN  A   WIFE  ,93 

trums,"  she  was  worth  them.     What  he  said  was 
altogether  different. 

"I'm  hanged  if  I  know  what  ails  you,  Louie! 
^ou  are  a  spoiled  child,  and  want  fondling,  and 
actmg,  and  mat.nee  heroics!  You  are  the  most  beau- 
tiful  woman  I  have  ever  seen!  You  have  every- 
thmg  money  can  buy;  and  there  you  sit-moping! 
There  are  various  ways  of  earning  a  living  It 
seems  to  me  you  earn  a  good  one  very  easily  I 
know  women  who  earn  a  harder  living  for  less 
money."  ^ 

The  tears  on  Mrs.  Ward's  face  vanished  in  one 
.lash  from  the  lifting  eyelids.     She  laughed  softly. 

f.Jr.  ?"^^'  'hat  his  flattery  had  pleased. 
That  s  right!  Cheer  up!  It's  nothing  but  dol- 
druns  I  If  you  are  lonely,  have  people  in !  Do  any- 
thing !  But,  good  gracious,  Louie,  don't  dump  dow-n 
m  a  heap!  You  don't  see  how  it  spoils  your  ap- 
pearance  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  but  I  haveiVt 
time  to  play  the  part  of  a  matinee  hero  to  a  tragedy 
queen  Heroics,  and  broken  hearts,  and  man  mak 
mg  a  foot-stool  of  iiimself-not  in  my  line,  Louie! 

happy!"'""        ""^'""'"^  ^""  '"''  '^"  '"'"  '""'''  ''"" 

'Thank  you,"  she  laughed,  rising  with  a  strange 
light  in  her  dark  eyes. 

Ward  opened  the  door  for  her  to  pass  out,  and 
closed  It  ^vith  a  sigh  of  relief.     The  majestic  sweep 

h     ""^''^'^■""^^■""^   ^coin   w.  s  altogether  missed 
oy  the  big  man. 


Of  all  things,"  he 


inated  over  his  cigar, 


194 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


woman's  moods.  No  matter — it's  only  a  piece  of 
acting.  Some  women  would  do  the  play-act  busi- 
ness at  a  funeral."  And,  forthwith,  he  reopened  the 
telegram. 

With  Mrs.  Ward  the  effect  was  deeper.  This 
was  not  the  part  of  which  she  had  dreamed  when 
she  became  the  great  man's  bride.  If  the  truth 
could  be  told  in  very  homely  comparison,  I  suspect 
the  part  that  she  intended  to  play  was  somewhat 
similar  to  the  animal  tamer  of  a  Nubian  lion,  only 
on  a  very  much  more  sumptuous  and  dazzling  scale. 
The  scale  was  sumptuous  enough,  but  the  lion  would 
not  perform.  The  idea  that  she  had  any  service 
to  perform,  or  owed  any  duty  to  life  other  than  the 
one  for  which  she  had  been  bought — never  entered 
her  mind. 

Mrs.  Ward  was  always  looking  for  effects,  and 
exaggerating  them,  and  fingering  their  ramifications 
to  every  fiber  of  her  being.  If  she  had  had  a  con- 
fidante, she  would  probably  have  dated  a  certain 
hardening  process  from  that  quarrel  over  the  dinner 
table.  She  thought  much  to  herself  of  "dead 
hopes,"  which  she  called  "ashes  of  roses."  Never- 
theless, ashes  of  roses  are  hard  to  distinguish  from 
the  dry-rot  of  vegetable  decay  caused  by  a  very 
small  worm.  The  first  visible  effects  were  that  she 
openly  sought  other  companionship  than  her  hus- 
band's. Society  looked  askance.  Society  got  in  the 
habit  of  watching.  Then,  society  talked  out  loud; 
but  as  lo,  g  as  Mrs.  Ward  kept  on  the  safe  side  of 
the  borderland,  "kept  people  guessing" — as  she  de- 


THE   CREED   IN  A  WIFE  ,95 

scribed  it-she  lost  neither  popularity  nor  notoriety 
rou  can  always  depend  on  a  saint,  and  you  can  al- 
ways depend  on  a  knave,  but  there  is  a  piquancy,  an 
element  of  provoking  surprise  in  watching  the  in- 
determinate mortal.  You  can't  help  wondering  on 
wh.ch  s.de  of  the  line  the  alternate  veerings  will 
finally  drop. 

Mrs.  Ward's  latest  fad  was  Madeline  Connor 
Who  was  she?     Society  did  not  know— one  form 
of   agnosticism    not    fashionable   unless   gilt-edged 
Where  did  she  come  from?     From  a  nondescript 
studio  behind  an  art  dealer's  store.     Society  shook 
Its  head.     She  might  be  anybody-^h^^nccs  against 
her    being    somebody-    chances    were— a    «obody! 
ff  hat  dxd  she  do?    Oh,  she  retouched  pictures  and 
painted  'hingamabobs  for  the  dealer  to  put  in  his 
window,  you  know;  and,  of  course,  the  dealer  gave 
her  the  studio  rent  free.     All  of  which  was  very 
meritonous,    but,    like    religion,    not   a    credential, 
finally,   someone   ascertained  that   Madeline   Con- 
nor's father  had  been  one  of  the  men   ruined  by 
Wards   stock   speculations.      Then,    society   knew. 
That  was  it.     Mrs.  Ward  was  making  up  for  ruin 
wrought  by  "high  finance";  and  Madeline  Connor 
was  forgiven  for  being  "taken  up"  by  Mrs.  Ward 
But  there   is  always  a   little   venom   generated  by 
much   wagging  of  tongues,   and  some   said   "Mrs 
Ward  had  a  deeper  game." 

All  unconscious,  Madeline  Connor  sat  at  the  din- 
ner table  of  the  new  Ward  mansion.  Her  intimacy 
with  Mrs.   Ward  had  begun  by  a  chance  remark 


196  THE    NEW    DAWN 

of  Hebden  that  he  had  seen  what  was  his  ideal  of 
a  young  girl  in  a  studio  behind  the  art  store.  Partly 
to  learn  what  his  ideal  might  be,  partly  with  an 
amused  suspicion  that  the  remark  was  to  pique  jeal- 
ousy, the  languid  Mrs.  Ward,  who  never  as  much 
as  lifted  a  haughty  hand  to  bring  the  herd  to  her 
feet,  one  afternoon  found  herself  in  the  studio  at 
the  rear  of  the  art  store.  She  had  been  quite  pre- 
pared for  the  milliners'  doll  type  of  man-catcher: 
doll  hair,  palpably  bleached;  doll  blue  eyes  that 
rolled  up  at  you  with  the  blank  innocence  of  eyes 
on  hinges;  doll  mouth  with  the  softness  of  the  little, 
clinging,  kissable  things  that  wind  round  men's 
hearts  before  the  hearts  know  cables  from  cob- 
webs; and,  above  all,  milliners'  ddll  manners,  with  a 
lisp  and  sort  of  daintiness  that  is  a  cut  between 
the  duchess  airs  of  a  lady's  maid  and  the  supple 
niceness  of  a  dancing  master;  or  perhaps,  the 
haughty  grand  duchess  disdain  of  a  waitress  in  a 
country  hotel.  That  is  what  Mrs.  Ward  expected. 
What  she  saw  was  the  cameo-classic  type,  with 
fire  in  the  hair,  and  fire  m  the  frank,  straightfor- 
ward eyes,  and  fire  in  the  hectic  color  that  flushed 
and  waned  to  each  breath,  and  fire  in  the  upright, 
clean-cut  aloofness  of  poise  in  head  and  limb.  1  he 
milliners'  doll  manners,  that  were  to  be  a  cut  be- 
tween the  lady's  maid  and  the  dancing  master,  were 
of  a  kind  that  neither  wheedled  nor  demanded  rec- 
ognition, but  received  it  with  absolute  unconscious- 
ness. Mrs.  Ward's  expectations  went  blank  for 
five   full  minutes   after  enterinp;  the  studio.     She 


THE   CREED  IN  A  WIFE  197 

gave  a  little  inarticulate  gasp  behind  her  lace  hand- 
kerchief, but  explained  that  she  had  called  to  buy 
two  pictures  of  a  little  ragged  boy  with  bare  feet, 
which  brought  such  a  Hash  of  pleasure  to  the  gray 
eyes  of  the  artist  that  Mrs.  Ward  felt  an  uncom- 
fortable sense  of  smailness. 

"Oh,    the   pictures   of   Budd?     He   is   my  best 
model." 

Some  faces  radiate  a  smile  without  the  change 
of  a  single  feature.     Such  a  smile  came  over  Made- 
line's face  now.     Mentally,  Mrs.  Ward  concluded 
that  the  girl  was  careful  not  to  wrinkle  her  won- 
derful skin.     The  next  moment  Mrs.  Ward  had 
that  uncomfortable  sense  ut  smailness  for  having 
harbored  the  thought.     In  gliding  from  picture  to 
picture  of  the  artist's  work,  she  studied  the  artist. 
"Mr.  Hebden  is  a  great  admirer  of  your  work?" 
she  ventured  with  a  quick  glance. 
"I  don't  know  him,"  said  the  girl. 
Mrs.  Ward  turned  the  answer  over,  and  felt  that 
sense  of  shrinkage  come  again. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "which  of  these 
pictures  it  was  that  he  liked?" 

"I  have  never  seen — what  did  you  say  his  name 
was?  ' 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Ward,  looking  straight  into  the 
girl's  eyes  with  no  trace  of  hauteur.  Something 
had  first  disarmed,  then  softened,  her  disdain.  "I 
suppose,"  she  added,  very  gently,  with  a  curious 
vibration  of  dead  chords  in  her  nature,  "I  suppose 
you  care  more  for  your  work  than  anything  on 


198 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


earth?  There  is  so  much  sunligl.t,  so  much  clear- 
ness, such  a  sense  of  buoyant,  undistrustful  freedom 
in  your  work?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  think  I  care  more  for  my  work 
than  anything  else — anything  but  my  friends,  of 
course." 

Mrs.  Ward  looked  at  the  girl.  In  less  than  five 
minutes  she  had  learned  that  one  did  not  need  to 
turn  this  girl's  answers  inside  out  for  their  mean- 
ing. In  less  than  five  minutes  her  surprise  had 
given  place  to  distrust,  her  distrust  to  a  sense  of 
self-contempt,  her  self-contempt  to  that  curious  vi- 
bration of  dead  chords.  When  she  left  the  studio, 
Mrs.  Ward  shook  hands  without  exactly  knowing 
why. 

"I  wish  so  much,"  she  said  lingeringly,  "that  it 
might  be  possible  for  you  to  hang  these  pictures  in 
my  own  sittinc;  room.  The  light  makes  such  ;  lif- 
ference?" 

"Why,  I  can,  if  you  wish." 

But,  when  Mrs.  Ward  had  gone,  a  feeling  of 
something  disingenuou"  crept  over  the  girl ;  and  she 
wrote  a  note  of  excuse  for  not  going  to  hang  the 
pictures. 

Mrs.  W?.rd  fingered  the  note  under  the  light  of  a 
Venetian  candle  in  her  own  room.  The  paper  ex- 
haled the  faint  odor  of  fresh  flowers — not  sachet. 
Mrs.  Ward  reread  the  note. 

"That  child — what  is  it  about  her?  I  wonder 
really  why  she  refused?  The  question  is  not  who 
is  she,  but  what  is  she.     I  wonder  did  he  say  that 


THE  CREED   IN  A  WIFE  199 

to  make  me  jealous?  Jealous?  What  fools  men 
are!  What  would  he  do  if  I  deliberately  brought 
them  together?"  and  Mrs.  Ward  wandered  off  to 
9  drama  of  real  life,  where  a  woman  who  had  the 
world  at  her  knees  was  torn  between  the  emotions 
of  an  imaginary  duty  to  a  man  she  did  not  love, 
and  an  imaginary  sacrifice  of  the  man  who  loved 
her.  The  rustle  of  the  rose-scented  note  recalled 
her.  She  smiled.  "I'm  really  snubbed — am  I?  I 
don't  take  snubs  gracefully.     I'll — conquer!" 

In  setting  herself  to  add  one  more  worshiper  to 
her  shrine,  Mrs.  Ward  found  herself  baffled,  then 
interested,  and  finally,  to  the  intense  surprise  of  her 
own  languid  emotions,  attracted  by  one  who  was 
the  antithesis  of  herself.  Some  are  as  fond  of  pok- 
ing fire  when  they  are  grown  up  as  in  childhood. 
Fire  would  not  be  fire  without  burns.  It  was  so 
with  Mrs.  Ward.  The  novelty  of  openly  taking 
for  her  friend  the  girl  brought  to  her  notice  by 
an  attempt  to  arouse  jealousy  added  zest.  It 
afforded  imaginary  dreams  of  an  endless  variety, 
in  which  Mrs.  Ward  raveied  and  unraveled,  and 
enraveled,  motives  with  emotions  till  both  motives 
and  emotions  were  mixed. 

In  fingering  over  her  emotions,  she  could  not  have 
told  what  induced  her  to  ask  Madeline  to  the  dull 
family  dinner.  Ward  had  invited  Colonel  Dillon, 
whom  she  always  honored  by  an  indifference  that 
was  contempt.  She  countered  by  inviting  the  young 
artist,  of  whom  her  husband  was  doubtful.  But, 
there  was  another  reason  which  her  self-searchino- 


soo 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


did  not  drtw  out.  She  wished  to  display  Madeline 
at  the  reception.  She  was  quite  sure  of  the  artist 
acquitting  herself  in  the  studio,  or  the  suburban 
cottage  where  she  lived.  Simplicity  and  candor  had 
an  ideal  setting  in  those  surroundings;  but  how 
would  they  show  off  at  an  affair  among  Paris 
gowns  ? 

Mrs.  Ward  had  received  three  shocks  to  her  ex- 
pectations from  Madel'ne  Connor.  She  received 
the  first  that  afternoon  in  the  studio.  The  second 
came  in  the  delicate  rebuff  of  the  note;  but  that  had 
been  overcome;  for  Madeline  not  only  hung  the  two 
pictures  in  the  boudoir,  but  supervised  the  hanging 
of  the  entire  art  gallery.  The  third  surprise  came 
when  Mrs.  Ward  found  herself  f.scinated  instead 
of  fascinating.  The  fourth  shock  was  on  the  night 
of  the  family  dinner.  She  had  asked  herself 
how  the  girl  would  come.  How  did  not  refer  to  the 
carriage.  Mrs.  Ward  had  sent  her  own  sleigh  to 
the  cottage.  It  referred  to  dress.  By  that,  Mrs. 
Ward  could  gauge  prospects  for  the  reception.  Mrs. 
Ward  came  straight  from  her  own  boudoir  as  Made- 
line entered  the  dressing  room.  The  girl  had 
thrown  off  her  cloak  and  was  gowned  in  a  plain  white 
silk  of  a  clinging  amplitude,  that  gave  her  an  almost 
Grecian  appearance.  It  was  without  any  ornamenta- 
tion whatever,  except  a  long  black  sash  and  some 
very  old  lace  at  throat  and  hands;  but  what  riveted 
Mrs.  Ward's  attention  was  a  necklace  of  rubies, 
each   larger  than   her   own  pigeon-blood;   Burma 


THE  CREED  IN  A  WIKK 


201 


rubies  of  a  deep,  wine  tone,  rich  red,  and  fiery  as 
sunlight. 

Mrs.  Ward  passed  no  remarks.  Madeline  was 
not  the  sort  to  receive  milliners'  doll  compliments. 
Mrs.  Ward  took  her  by  the  hand  and  stood  back  to 
survey  her. 

"What?"  asked  the  other,  with  the  hectic  spots 
at  play.  "Am  I  too  early?  If  one  starts  on  time 
the  cars  are  sure  to  jam  you  half  an  hour  late.  I 
told  your  man  to  drive  fast.  The  frost  is  so  splen- 
did on  one's  face.  It  was  like  a  drink  of  pure  .  .  . 
water;  and  the  night  is  full  of  Jtars." 

"So  are  your  eyes,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ward,  kiss- 
ing her,  and,  nestling  one  hand  in  Madeline's,  she 
led  the  girl  down  the  broad  stairway,  proudly  justi- 
fied. 

"You  must  tell  me  how  you  like  the  dining  room. 
I  planned  the  decorations  myself,"  confided  Mrs. 
Ward. 

Colonel  Dillon  received  introductions  to  women 
with  a  wheezy  compliment  and  embarrassingly  pro- 
longed stare.  His  stare  wandered  over  Madeline; 
and,  if  I  must  tell  what  this  ornate  gentleman  with 
glare  fobs  and  flash  studs  thought  of  the  artist,  his 
verdict  was  that  "her  dress  was  too  niglit-gowny." 
He  would  have  preferred  more  flare  to  the  size, 
more  glare,  bigger  spots  of  lighter  color,  and  puffs 
and  frills  and  ribbons  and  drapes.  That  is — his 
verdict  was  "too  night-gowny"  until  his  eyes  goggled 
over  her  figure  to  the  rubies.  Then  he  folded  his 
hands  across  the  rotundity  of  his  white  waistcoat — ■ 


203 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


jnd  looked!  Introductions  to  women  were  curt 
matters  for  Ward,  but  his  narrowed  eyes  glanced 
at  her  rubies  once  and  at  Madeline  Conner  twice. 
He  was  satisfied.  His  wife's  condescension  was 
being  expended  where  it  was  worth  while,  and  he 
at  once  plunged  into  a  business  discussion  with  the 
colonel,  while  Mrs.  Ward  occupied  the  attention  of 
her  guest. 

"Well,  tell  me  how  you  like  my  plans?  You 
know,  I  want  really  to  have  your  honest  opinion — 
no  compliments." 

"Let  me  look!"  The  girl's  glance  flitted  from 
the  rose-wood  table  with  its  glare  of  cut  glass  and 
plate  and  candlesticks  to  the  china  cabinet  and 
racks  of  rare  porcelain.  The  paneling  was  in  hand- 
carved  woods — dryads  and  fauns  and  bacchantes. 
Instead  of  the  walls  meeting  the  ceiling  in  a  curved 
fresco,  enormous  beams  of  carved  oak  bounded  and 
spanned  the  ceiling,  cutting  it  in  squares.  The 
squares  were  ceiled  in  red  cedar.  An  old-fashioned 
black  gallery,  taken  from  some  European  castle, 
ran  across  one  end  of  the  room.  Between  the  pil- 
lars were  tapestries  of  an  oriental  design — languid 
queens  being  served  with  flagons,  Cleopatras  in 
barges,  goddesses  in  rose  gardens.  French  windows 
opened  to  a  conservatory  on  one  side. 

"I  like  it!  It  isn't  the  awful  junk-shop  of  bric- 
a-brac  one  sees  so  often  I  1  like  it  very  much !  It's 
so  free  from  flimsy  stucco.  It  is  so  strong.  That 
gallery  must  have  come   from  some  old  drinking 


THE  CREKD   I\  A  WIFE  ,03 

apoplectic    and    purple,    ht^U-a  e^  '^^"l^^ 
oysters    to    crook    a     shaking    Hn.er    in    W.rt 

stltl      '   d»';dy-prnt   green    from    school,    to 
stand  in  the  way?"  he  husked. 

"I   don't  want  this   strike  on,    Dillon    until   th- 
new  stock's  off  the  bat,"  returned  Ward 

fo  „   "' /""'^"^  8"t  to  clinch  his  concern-you've  got 
to  put  him  out  of  the  way  I"  ^ 

'That's  all  right,"  warned  Ward,  giving  the  belli- 
cose  colonel  a  significant  Io<-'^.  ^ 

The  red  face  aboNc  the  rotundity  of  the  white 
waistcoat  slowly  revolved  till  its  Li  t  r  drancy 
beamed  on  Mrs.  Ward.  The  little  white  ey  I 
goggled  apoplectically.  ^ 

"We're   laying  campaign,"   he   gurgled   huskily 
laymg  campaign,   Mrs.   Ward-blow  a   m  fup 

vicio'rs."'  ^^''■'  •  •  •  ^"'^  '"  ^'"^  ■^dies.'thc 

A  gurgling  cachination  that  was  meant  for  a  com- 

p  men      accompanied    this     announcement.      Z. 

of  the     f "?  """''^  °"  ''"  P'^'^'  ''"'  the  warmth 
of  the  colonel  atoned  for  frost  in  his  hostess 

Love  your  enemies,  you  know,  Mrs   Wanit     If 
they  slap  one  cheek-as  I  was  telling  wLd-givc 


804 


lllli    NKVV    DAWN 


'em  'other!  1  say — give  'cm  both  cheeks,  both 
hands,  both  feet — and  a  boost  on  the  run  t" 

With  which  charitable  sentiment,  accompanied  by 
an  ogle  and  reddening  of  the  wattles,  th;  colonel 
slowly  swivelcd  his  revolving  person  back  in  the 
direction  of  his  host. 

There  was  a  slight  silence,  broken  by  Mrs.  Ward. 

"Yes — you  are  rightl  Saxon  warriors  planned 
raids  under  that  gallery.  Times  and  manners 
change,  but  the  conqueror  plans  his  conquests  just 
the  same.  You  don't  like  the  tapestries?  I  watched 
your  face  as  you  looked  at  them.     What  is  it?" 

"It  isn't  that  I  don't  admire  them.  They  are 
very  beaufiful.  They  simply  don't  appeal  to  my 
fancy.  They  give  me  a  sens";  of  smothered  air, 
of  a  garden  where  exotics  become  heavy  from  lack 
of  wind,  'i'hcy  are  too  voluptuous  for  me,  too  much 
like  a  Turkish  harem — all  sense,  delight,  and  lan- 
guor, and  soft  winds,  and  rose  beds.  I  like  action, 
beauty  of  motion.  I  wish  they  would  get  up  and 
do  things — those  hea\y-cyed  goddesses.  They  are 
like  a  fondling  caress — it  palls  I" 

"Oh!"  smiled  the  other.  "Fancy  those  soft, 
warm,  lazy  goddesses  sunning  in  the  blast  of  a  north 
wind?" 

Madeline  saw  the  pallor  of  her  com;^anion's  fore- 
head become  white  and  the  eyelids  droop.  The 
words  came  in  a  soft  whisper,  like  an  nsp  from  the 
flowers  of  the  tapestried  wail.  "Madeline — tell  me, 
you,  who  are  so  honest  and  scorn  to  shut  your  eyes 
to  things — tell  me,  jus',  what — what  is  the  difference 


THE  CRKED  IN   A  WII  !•; 


20$ 


between  those  lawless  warriors  long  ago  and — 
that?"  She  nodded  in  the  ilircction  of  her  hus- 
band. "What  is  the  difference  hetw.-en  those  vo. 
luptuous  goddesses  on  the  tapestry  hought  for  a 
price,  and — my  life?     We're  both  utterly  useless; 

good    for    nothing,     but sense     pleasure 

....  sunning  ourselves  in  fair  weather!" 

Ward  was  sitting  sideways  to  the  table,  forgetful 
of  his  food,  gazing  out  through  the  I'rench  window 
to  the  conservatory  with  eyes  that  saw  no  da-vers. 
Colonel  Dillon's  white-lashed  eyes  were  glued  to 
Ward's  face,  the  short  temples,  the  flat  nose,  the 
pursed  lips,  the  creased  chin,  silhouetted  in  porcine 
profile. 

"Traders  on  floor  tell  me  fhey've  picked  up  all 
the  loose  holdings,"  Dillon  was  saying.  "That 
pretty  nearly  gives  us  the  whip  handle,  as  I  make 
it  out.  Now,  bring  on  the  strike  1  When  his  stock 
drops — you've  got  him!  By  George,  W»rd,  I'd 
pulverize  him  so  he'd  not  make  dust  for  a  bone 
yard!  If  you  find  out  a  man's  goin'  t'  hit  you, 
knock  him  down  first.  Knock  him  down  again. 
Unless  he's  willing  to  crawl  off  to  a  hole,  keep  him 
knocked  down!  That's  what  F  say."  The  colonel 
wheezed  hard,  coughed,  became  purple,  coughed 
again. 

Perhaps,  we  see  the  baron  raiders  of  long  ago 
picturesqi-ely  because  they  are  at  a  distance.  Per- 
haps, Saxon  warriors  boasting  in  their  cups  of  their 
harems  and  their  killings  might  have  aroused  the 
same  repulsion  as  Madeline  Connor  felt  listening  to 


206 


THr    NEW    DAWN 


the  porcine  financier  planning  a  rival's  overthrow. 
Again,  the  whisper  stole  on  Madeline  like  an  asp 
from  the  flowers  of  the  tapestry. 

"You  see,  dear,  wives  are  only  a  pawn  in  their 
game."  Disdain  was  in  the  thin,  curling  lips,  the 
arch  of  the  lifted  brows,  the  poise  of  the  head.  "We 
are  only  goods  and  chattels,  too,  bought  for  a  price  I 
Think  of  the  days  of  chivalry,  when  men  fought  for 
honor  and  truth's  sake  without  reward — then  listen 
to  our  modern  chivalry.  We  would  crucify  Christ 
if  He  stood  in  the  way,  and  donate  brokerage  fees 
to  the  church  1" 

A  stab  of  pain,  followed  by  a  wave  of  pity,  came 
to  Madeline  Connor.  Our  beds  are  none  the  softer 
because  we  made  them  ourselves.  Madeline  ("onnor 
did  not  think  of  the  words.  She  thought  only  of  the 
great  unhappiness — self-tortured,  gnawing,  worm- 
like— that  must  underlie  such  words  and  must  ulti- 
mately undermine  character.  She  was  glad  when 
the  dinner  was  over  and  Mrs.  Ward  led  the  way  to 
the  fireplace  of  the  art  gallery,  leaving  the  men  over 
their  glasses.  With  no  light  but  the  hearth,  Mrs. 
Ward  motioned  Madeline  to  an  armchair,  tossed 
pillows  in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  threw  herself 
before  the  fire  with  her  face  on  her  arm  across  the 
girl's  knee. 

No  word  was  said;  but  the  silence  was  fraught 
v;ith  a  meaning  deeper  than  words.  Her  life  was 
very  unhappy,  then,  this  woman's,  with  all  the  hom- 
age and  luxury  that  money  could  buy.  Her  life  was 
loveless,  cold,  hard,  colorless,  flat,  this  woman,  who 


THE  CREED  IN  A  WIFE  207 

was  the  wife  of  the  great  financier;  and  disdain  could 
cover  a  breaking  heart;  and  coldness,  hot  revolt-  and 
hardness,  gnawing  self-torture;  and  defiance,  a  rash- 
ness that  might  risk  all.  Whether  that  unhappiness 
were  merited  or  not,  it  was  enough  that  its  shadow 
fell  across  this  life  like  an  ambushed  danger;  and 
JVladclinc  glanced  from  the  fire  to  see  Mrs.  Ward's 
face  upturned  questioningly. 

''Madeline— tell  me— tell  me  honestly— is  there 
such  a  thing  as  pure  love;  or  is  all  love  but  a  lusting 
for  self— disguised,  of  course,  but  just  a  greed  of 
something  for  self  ?" 

And  Madeline  Connor  felt  as  if  the  danger  had 
sprung   full-formcd,    bodily   and   menacingly,    from 
the  shadow  of  that  unhappiness.     The  hearth  logs 
crashed  down;  and,  when  the  flame  leaped  up  again 
Mrs.  Ward  still  waited.  ^  ^      ' 

"Why  don't  you  answer?" 

"Because  I  am  sorry  you  could  ever  have  had  any 
experience  to  make  you  ask  that;  I  am  sorry  you 
haven  t  the  answer  so  surely  in  your  own  heart  that 
you  could  neve.-  ask  the  question." 

"Perhaps,"  mused  Mrs.  Ward,  "perhaps  I  have 
the  answer  in  my  own  heart." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  boch  women  gazing  in 
the  fire. 

"Mrs.  Ward,"  burst  out  Madeline,  "a  precipice 
IS  none  the  less  a  precipice  because  there  are  flowers 
on  the  edge." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me  going  over?"  laughed 
Mrs.  Ward. 


208 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"No;  but  if  you  were  picking  flowers  near  the 
edge  somebody  might  push  you  over.  You  like 
playing  on  edges.  You  haven't  enough  real  interests 
in  life  to  keep  you  from  having  fun  on  the  edges  of 
things." 

Mrs.  Ward  broke  into  a  peal  of  almost  girlish 
laughter. 

"You  are  delicious,"  she  said.     "  Do  you  know 
that  half  the  women  in  the  world  envy  me?" 
'I  don't,"  retorted  the  girl  bluntly. 

Mrs.  Ward  laughed  again  and  bega'  playing  with 
Madeline's  hands.  Again  that  curious  instinct  of 
ambushed  danger  menacing  from  the  shadowy  back- 
ground of  unhappiness  :tirred  the  girl  vaguely.  "I 
wish  you  would  promise  me  something."  She  be- 
gan: "If  ever  you  are  in  danger,  or  perplexity " 

But  Mrs.  Ward  broke  in  with  a  laugh. 

"I  am  to  come  and  dump  all  my  woes  round  your 
neck.     Well,  I  promise." 

"But  it  isn't  that  in  the  least.  There's  a  note  like 
a  discord — you  frighten  me  the  way  you  talk " 

"Then  we'll  not  talk  of  it  any  more.  You  will 
come  to  the  reception?  I  want  Mr.  Hebden  to 
see  you " 

"Is  Mr.  Hebden  married?" 

"Now,  1  know  he's  been  making  love  to  you.  No 
— it's  his  mother.  Dorvai  is  not  married;  but  it 
isn't  the  fault  of  candidates  for  the  position." 

"You  needn't  think  he  sits  for  a  portrait  without 
my  knowing  that.  More  women  come  the  day  that 
he  sits  for  a  portrait  than  all  the  rest  of  the  weekl" 


THE  CREED  IN  A  WIFE  209 

"Oh;  is  it  his  o«;«  portrait?  I  didn't — I  thought 
it  was  the  copy  of  a  photograph." 

"Why  did  you  think  that?" 
^  "Why,   he  said— dear  me!— what  did  he  say? 
I've  forgotten  all  about  it!" 

Mrs.  Ward  broke  off  suddenly  and  toyed  with 
her  rings. 

"There  is  something  you  should  know  about  Dor- 
val,  if — if  '  .  hasn't  told  you?" 

There  was  a  caress  in  the  softness  of  the  voice, 
in  the  attitude  at  the  girl's  feet,  in  the  long  silence, 
in  the  warmth  of  the  dim  gallery.  Mrs.  Ward  was 
in  her  element,  weaving  romantic  possibilities,  finger- 
ing her  emotions  to  the  outermost  end  of  each  fiber. 

"He  has  told  me  nothing  but  the  usual  stuff  such 
men  say  to  women.  You  know  what  such  men  say 
to  every  woman.     You  know  he  doesn't  mean  it." 

"Did  you  tell  him  he  didn't  mean  it?" 

"I  asked  him  why  no  man  since  Ada-n  ha;; 
thought  of  anything  new." 

"It  must  be  a  new  sensation  for  Dorval  Hebden," 
laughed  Mrs.  Ward.  She  toyed  with  her  rings. 
"Perhaps  it  isn't  necessary  to  tell  it,"  she  added. 
"You  might  only  misjudge  my  motives." 

Th  girl  bolted  upright  with  an  abruptness  that 
discounted  grace. 

"IVhy  do  you  say  a  thing  like  that?  fFhy  do  you 
go  wriggling  in  and  out  among  motives?  IFhy 
should  you  think  that  I  think  that  you  think — You 
make  me  dizzy!  It's  like  a  dancing  dervish  who 
keeps   whirling  round  himself  till  your  eyes   ache 


a  10 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


looking!    Forgive  me  1    What  was  it  I  should  know 
about  Mr.  Hebden?" 

And  both  laughed. 

Again  the  long  silence  and  the  toying  with  the 
rings  and  .he  play  of  strange  lights  about  the  lips. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Ward,  wheeling  to  face 
the  girl.  "As  I  introduced  hini  to  you,  I'll  tell  you. 
He's  the  great-grandson  of  a  German  prince,  Made- 
line, with  morganatic  selfishness  in  his  veins;  and 
his  mother  will  never  see  him  marry  an  American 
girl — that  is  all!" 

"Why  do  you  want  Mrs.  Hebden  to  see  me?" 

The  question  took  Mrs.  Ward  off  guard.  She 
could  not  very  well  explain  that  she  wanted  to  side- 
step gooiip  about  herself  by  publicly  showing  Heb- 
den and  Madeline  together  at  her  own  reception. 

"Anyway,"  the  girl  went  on,  "I  don't  see  ho-w  that 
information  concerns  my  relations  with  Mr.  Heb- 
den." 

A  quick  step  crossed  the  gallery.  A  figure  took 
form  in  the  shadows  so  unexpectedly  that,  for  a 
moment,  Madeline  Connor  thought  the  menacing 
danger  of  her  vague  intuitions  had  emerged  from 
the  dark. 

"Who  is  talking  about  me  there?"  demanded  Mr. 
Dorval  Hebden  himself.  "Don't  move!  Don't  let 
me  spoil  it!  '  He  came  to  the  fireplace  smiling  non- 
chalantly. "You  make  a  picture  there,  you  two — a 
picture  in  black  and  white,  with  the  red  glow  about 
like  a  master  canvas !  Don't  mov  . !  May  I  j^in 
you?" 


THE  CREED  IK  A  WIFE  m 

And  Mrs.  Ward  did  not  fail  to  note  that  his 
glance  rested  on  the  white  of  the  picture  longer  than 
on  the  black. 

"Ccme,  now,  what  were  you  talking  about?"  re- 
iterated Hebden.    "I  know  that  I  heard  my  name?" 
How  much  more  did  he  hear?"  thought  Mrs 
Ward;  but  she  clinched  both  hands  round  her  knees 
and  met  the  challenge. 

"I  had  just  asked  Madeline  whether  love  were 
ever  anything  but  a  mask  for  self.  What  do  yo„ 
thmk,  Mr.  Hebden?" 

If  NIr.  Dorval  Hebden  had  said  what  he  thought 
he  would  have  answered  that  "a  woman  could  dare 
too  much";  but  that  challenge  in  connection  with  his 
own  name  put  the  caution  of  his  manhood  on  guard- 
and,  standing  back  among  the  shadows,  he  made  no 
haste  to  answer. 

"And  what  did  Miss  Connor  say?"  safely  re- 
plied M.-.  Dorval  Hebden. 

"Oh,  Madeline  has  such  a  low  opinion  of  love, 
she  thr.iks  it  should  be  put  under  lock  and  key." 
"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden. 
He  knew  that  note  of  recklessness  and  took  his 
bearings  like  a  craft  in  shifty  currents. 

"Mr.  Ward  has  just  told  me  that  that  boy  of  ours 
-your  m-.del,  Miss  C,  .inor— Budd  of  the  rags  and 
bare  feet,  is  becoming  a  little  crackerjack  of  a 
worker  in  the  Great  Consolidated." 

m  arched  brows  lifted.     The  thin  lips  curled. 

He  sees  you  are  not  interested  in  love,  Madeline  ■ 

but  you  are  in  little  ragged  boys;  so  he  takes  you  at 


212 


I'UK    NLVV    DAWN 


your  weakest  point.      That's  a  specialty  of   Dor- 
val's." 

"If  she  thinks  that,"  thought  Madeline,  "why 
does  she  keep  him  for  her  friend?"  but  the  girl  was 
not  old  enough  to  answer  that  questio:  . 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT  BY  PLEASURE  SEEKERS 

the  g,eat  General  Stake,  which  was  to  paralyze  all 
ndustry  and  compel  capital  to  hand  ove'r  alHndu" 
try  to    abor,  was  a  man  whose  mind,  like  h,s  creed 
recogn.zed  neither  race,  creed,  nor  color.     Had  S 
amb,t,ons  rece.ved  a  different  bent  earlier  he  migh 
have  become  the  same  type  as  V/ard.    There  was 

aw  ofTheThf  "^r:^"""'  °'  '""^y-  *he  hard  set 
aw  of  the  fighter  relymg  on  brute  strength,  on  the 
argument  of  overpowering  force;  but,  where  Ward' 
eyes  were  cold  calculating,  unemotional,  the  labo 
leaders  were  b.g  of  pupil,  glowing  with  a  fanati 
.sm  that  m.ght  lead  to  heroism  or  cLe.  Both  m  „ 
had  he  same  a.m-Power;  but  Ward  acted  in^he 
behef  that  he  served  the  race  best  by  serving  Self 
first.     McGee  believed  that  he  served  Self  bit  by 

oSaf :,  ""T'-     "^^'"^  '■''^"  ''--'f'  Ward 
scoffed  at  class  distinctions  and  considered  that  any 

masses.  McGee  had  a  certain  conviction  that  a  poor 
man  ,,      ,3  ,,,     ^.e  ,  member  of  the  community 

a  nch  man^    He  did  not  say  it  in  so  many  worj 

but  beneath  the  fireworks  of  all  his  fulminaLs  was' 

"3 


ai4 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


the  deep-rooted,  almost  childish,  belief  that  all  rich 
people  were  thieves,  or  the  heirs  of  thieves,  and  all 
poor  people,  poor  through  no  fault  of  their  own. 

The  odd  thing  was  that  both  men  aimed  at 
Power  in  the  same  way.  Ward  called  it  "consolida 
tioii,"  "amalgamation,"  "domination."  McGec 
called  it  union — Union — and  yet  again.  Union.  If 
all  workers  who  worked  with  their  hands — McGee 
took  no  account  of  men  and  women  who  worked 
with  their  heads — if  all  workers,  simultaneously  all 
over  the  world,  of  every  nation  and  every  color,  re- 
fused to  work,  there  would  result  the  Great  General 
Strike,  the  Great  Social  Revolution,  and  Capital 
must  capitulate  bloodlessly.  Labor  would,  at  one 
stroke  of  the  pen,  own  the  accumulated  resu  j  of 
generations  of  toil  and  savings  and  thievery.  Capi- 
tal must  take  off  its  dinner  coat  and  go  to  work  in 
shirt  sleeves  or — go  hungry.  McGee  always 
laughed  when  he  came  to  this  climax  of  his  reason- 
ing. Ward  looked  out  on  life  and  saw  a  jubilant 
battleground  for  the  Strong  (the  Weak  were  not 
fit  to  survive,  anyway;  better  perish  and  quit)  with 
countless  hosts  on  both  sides  commanded  by  one 
clear-cut,  towering  figure — the  Victor!  McGee 
looked  out  on  life  and  saw  ragged  armies,  listless, 
laggard,  straggling,  restless  with  pain  of  their  own 
misdeeds  and  their  own  inheritance,  restless  with 
hunger  and  discontent — if  to  blame,  so  much  the  sad- 
der; if  numb,  so  much  the  n.ore  tragic,  like  the  de- 
lirious fever  patient,  so  much  the  needier  for  the 
Christ    ministrations    of    help — Demos,    wild-eyed 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       9,5 

and  riotous   wandering,  groping  aimlessly  to  a  solu- 
lon  not  to  be  found,  from  a  Hell  age,  old  as  vert 

;".t"''"'''^p~'^'»'«-p'"«-Ha7p:^ 

So  stood  the  two  men  before  the  judgment  seat 

a.ms  for  Self  merged  m  the  public  good;  and  where 

l-r  bell  ?    It  was  the  ethics  of  I  lunger  pitted  affainst 
the  eth,cs  of  Power;  and  an  Unseen  H     d-fa  ."d 

h^th  r  °^,^°J— °-J  the  little  human  figures 
nither  and  thither.  n^'y-' 

Ward's  singleness  of  purpose  was  un  exclusion  of 
purpose  that  shut  out  all  aims  but  one-Self  Mc- 
Gees  wideness  of  aim  included  work  and  enquiries 
of  an  amazing  detail,  including  all  men  of  all  cIo 
and  a  I  creeds  Within  the  short  time  this  narratle 
records  he  had  been  a  section  hand  in  the  Truesd  L 
mines,  a  tunnel  foreman  under  Kipp  the  engineer  in 
he  Great  Consolidated,  and  a  man  of  no  visible  oc- 
cupation in  the  saloons  of  the  water  front  in  Lower 

doff?.'  ,  :T  '^'  ^''''  t:onsolidated  offices  he 
Joffed  his  fedora  ,n  response  to  a  curt  nod  from 
Saunders.  Sam  McGee  bit  off  a  piece  of  tobacco 
meditatively.  "Guess  I  give  Lady  Macbeth  a  ba" 
?rd"ne.r-  '"°"'"  ^""'  *"='"  ''='-  -"^  before 
His  next  acquaintances  were  two  of  the  variety 
known  as  "hoboes,"  who  had  not  a  lazy  inch  in  the  r 
body  but  were  chronically  tired,  and  now  rested 
themselves  on  a  street  corner  where  a  crowd  of  peo- 


3l6 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


pie  usually  transferred  from  car  to  car.  Sam  Mc- 
Gee  did  not  doff  his  hat  to  these  acquaintances. 
He  did  not  speak.  One  of  the  hoboes  slouched  his 
hat  lower  and  coughed.  McGee  cleared  his  throat. 
In  the  crowd  he  jostled  between  the  men. 

'Nickel  Plate,"  remarked  McGee. 

The  hobo  coughed  again  and  looked  at  his  boots. 

"Right  away,"  ruminated  Sam  McGee,  "and  I've 
got  the  stuff." 

.\s  the  tramps  shuffled  off  McGee's  inquiring  eyes 
fell  on  the  figure  of  a  small  boy  in  a  blue  suit  with 
brass  buttons.  The  boy  was  trying  how  long  he 
could  stand  on  one  leg  and  whirl  the  other  level 
with  his  waist  without  losing  balance. 

"Hello,  youngster!  Hello,  Budd  McGee,"  sa- 
luted the  labor  delegate. 

"Hello,  Uncle  Sam !"  The  small  boy  lost  balance 
and  changed  legs.  "When  did  you  come  back  from 
sturrin'  things  up  in  gen'ral?" 

"What  do  you  think  you  know  about  stirring 
things  up?" 

"Lots,"  vowed  the  small  boy,  whirling  again. 

"How  is  your  mother?" 

"I  duimo!"  The  small  boy  stood  still.  "Gone 
for  goo(*    I  guess  1" 

"Gone — is  she?"  asked  McGee  with  a  wild  look 
in  his  eyes. 

"She  said  when  I  got  a  sit  in  the  G.C.  and  went 
to  chore  at  Miss  Connor's  I'd  get  on  better  without 
herl    I  guess  that's  so,  ain't  it?" 

"I  guess  so,"  declared  Sam  McGee.    "That's  the 


THE 

blamdest  scnsihl 


she  do 


"I  dunnc 


It  sooner?" 


CREED  WORKED  OUT 

she  ever  did! 


ai: 


Why  didn'l 


said  Budd  in  a  sing-song. 


"What's  she  ioing? 
"I  dunnol" 
"Where  did  she  go?" 
"Down  t'  New  York." 
"Does  she  write  to  you?" 
"Um-humI" 

Sam  McOee  looked  at  the  small  urchin  with  the 
harass  buttons  of  the  Great  Consolidated  on  his  blue 

Rudd         '■     '""'~'°  ""'^  ^°^  her.     Look  here, 

"I'm   lookin',"   which   was   only   metaphoucally 
true;  for  Bud  was  spinning.  ^ 

"How  do  you  like  the  Great  Consolidated?" 
Dullyl 

"Do  you  ever  hear  of  a  fellow  called  Kipp'" 
to  Pe'ru!"      "'"  '"""  '^"^  '^"'^  '°  *"  forwarded 

"Do  )jott  post  those  letters,  Budd'" 
seli— "    '  S'"'^  '^"^  *'  Silky!    He  sends  'em  his- 

"Oh,   he  does,  does   he?"  interrupted  the  labor 
delegate.     "Look  here,  Budd !     Do  you  want  a  sky- 

IthrrL"?"''^  """"''  ''"  ^^^^™°°"   -^-   ^- 

Budd  dropF  J  both  feet  in  a  simultaneous  jump 
to  the  perpendicular. 


3t8 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"D*  y'  mean  it,  Uncle  Sam?  Yei,  siree,  bet  I 
do!" 

"Well,  you  go  home  to  Miss  Connor  and  get  on 
old  clothes  tor  fishing  and  I'll  take  you  out  to  the 
river!  Meet  me  in  the  Nickel  Plate  saloon;  and 
Budd — mind — I'll  slit  your  tongue  if  it  wags!  Mum, 
now!" 

"Mum!"  reiterated  Budd,  darting  for  a  car, 
"Mum-yum-yuni !" 

And  Sam  McGec,  walking  delegate,  continued  his 
leisurely  course  to  Lower  J'own.  'Ihe  two  hoboes 
had  watched  him  with  the  boy;  then  took  a  shorter 
way  to  the  same  destination  by  sundry  back  Hi  ■•  ts 
and  blind  alleys,  entering  the  side  door  of  a  saloon 
with  gorgeous  bevel  mirrors  in  both  windows  and 
colored  prints  of  corset  ladies  showing  a  dazzling 
array  of  white  teeth  at  each  end  of  the  mirrors. 

"Didn't  know  he  had  a  kid?"  remarked  one  hobo. 

"Hasn't — it's  his  sister's!" 

"He  called  the  brat— McGee !" 

"It's    his    sister's,    all    the    same "    but   the 

tramps'  conjectures  regarding  Budd's  antecedents 
were  silenced  by  the  entrance  of  Sam  McGee  him- 
self at  the  front  door. 

Though  the  Nickel  Plate  imitated  modern  grand- 
eur with  its  bevel  mirrors  and  dental  ladies  and  floor 
of  coins  and  colored  caraffes,  it  wisely  conformed  to 
an  older  and  more  comfortable  order  of  things.  Be- 
hind the  billiard  room  was  a  low-ceilinged  restau- 
rant with  small  tables  down  the  wall  at  which  ardent 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT      a,, 

I  ncrc  s  the  sfuff  t     n       •        '"^•'''- 
happy!"     McJce   aiJaSm""T'.""^  y""'"  ^^ 
t"  the  hoboc.     "When  w    •      ^^'  ^"  *"^  »  "°d 
back  room  with  me !"      ^      '"  '"PP''  "'"«  *°  the 

"Same  old  crowdPM.r-  /"'"'""  """l''^- 
pockets  as  he  pTsIed  Join  .'h'  ''"*i'''^  *"'  '^°"«" 
cant  table     "Th ','    r      .    '^'  ""*''=  '«'"'"K  a  va- 

-  a  %  bHiHa^tTut^t:!::::,:?^;"?  "'"'"'- 

fending  all  rights  but    h    SuT  ^'  '™'^'  '^*- 

to    sleep   with    anxiety   ove?L         "''•  "'"^  «°'"« 

Hello,  Go,dsmith-;ir:„a:t/?"'  ^t: 

lows  still  hatching  nlot,  t„  .     "    V        ''''  y""  '«'■ 

dedamafon  with  a  big   broad   Z  ^  '^""''y 

whiskered,  German  smile         '         '''  8°°d-natured. 
"How's  the  strike,  Sam'" 

"Anri  ft,    \<<  I  y  '^'"  the  strike  for  u,  " 

"And  then  the  union  goes  to  caoital     Ti,        • 
^^ys:  'We  own  this  or  shut  yo^r "hi ' r    rS'  ""'°" 
^•^>-  'Now  cap.,  come  over  "oJs^- "       ^''^  ""'°" 
«P'taIandlaborarcso,idyou.,;:;.„;r:;j;- 


220 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


the  public.    When  you're  hitched  up  to  get  a  square 
half  of  profit  from  capital " 

"Bosh,"  snorted  Goldsmith,  the  comatose  bril- 
liancy breaking  looce,  tumbling  his  pipe  out,  "bosh — 
I  say!  Are  you  goin'  to  hitch  up  for  half  the  losses, 
too?" 

The  Goldsmith  group  emitted  a  laugh. 

"Say,  McGee,  you  look  out  o'  that  window?  See 
those  men  working  on  that  drain !  Watch  that  fel- 
low in  the  red  shirt!  He  gets  same  wages  as  others, 
according  to  the  union!  You  watch  him — see?  He 
stands  on  one  foot  till  it's  tired;  then  he  stands  on 
the  other.  Then  he  stops  digging  when  the  fore- 
man's back  is  turned.  Do  you  think  that  lubber  is 
worth  the  same  pay  as  the  other  men?  That's  your 
union — that's  your  social  millennium !  Oh,  you'll 
get  over  that,  McGee !  You'll  get  enough  of  your 
smug  union!    You'll  come  across  to  the  Reds  yet!" 

The  laugh  that  greeted  this  sally  was  joined  by 
McGee. 

"Hold  on.  Goldsmith !  Look  out  of  that  win- 
dow, you  fire-eaters!  See  the  fellow  sitting  on  the 
curb  eating  his  dinner  while  the  other  fellows  work? 
That's  your  anarchy — Goldsmith:  idle  fellows  spout 
rights  and  eat  the  dinner  some  other  fellows 
earned." 

And  this  laugh  was  'topped  by  the  hoboes  follow- 
ing a  waiter  with  a  tray  of  bottles. 

"Any  of  you  men  seen  Kipp  lately?"  inquired  Mc 
Gee  lightly. 

No  one  answering,  the  labor  delegate  sat  down 


i 


THE  CREEP  WORKED  OUT       221 

to  a  table  with  the   wo  trarrnc     n„»  l 

Military  air  with  .rra^;^;^^ 

gangT-'"'"  ''"'"  ^'^''"'  "''^^^  y°"  --  ^'1  the 
haJe'l"  ^'""''"''"'y  ''°''°  ^^'id  impressively:  "We 
"And?"  demanded  McGee 
''Nothin',"  nodded  the  red  nose. 
Look  here?"  McGee  lowered  his  voice.     "We 
don  t  want  you  to  cough  UD I     Keen  ,V     A       u 
doughnuts.;     We  don'tlanf  It-tTa'"  ^^^Th^; 

appeared.  Have  you  done  every  joint  where  a  liahf 
headed  ;ack  could  get  himsel/ LndblgJ  d  '  ^^ 
Kipp  we  want— not  the  money?" 

-..-.y  *.,  ,h„  k.,  vSr^d'".,  ™  j'.£: 

a  gentleman  might  go." 

"Has   Kipp  been_rfo„.?     I  don't  ask  names! 

All  I  want  to  know   <i h  *■;**  j     j  ,.    """="' 

part  of  the  I  WW  " '^'PP '^"^'^  ^^  "''^e.  It's 
Jr.  .  f"^  ^-  W.  W.  propaganda  to  know  everv 
thmg  mside  a  man's  hidp      r  l,,  «-"ow  every- 

but  I  h,„»  /    !,  "^^^  "ly  °"'n  theory; 

disann        ru^'""^-    Understand,  the  afternoon  he 

"Gun,"    t'  "r"''  '°  ^"^''^^  '^"  thousand!'- 
hoK  [         "    thousand!"   ejaculated   the   tiosv 

hobo  with  watery  eyes  ^^ 

waitln'"''  '  ''°'  '^'^  '°''  y°"'  ^'^•"  '""'"^"Pted  the 


122 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"All  right  I  I'll  be  out!  You  two  keep  on  the 
push!    So  long,  fellows!" 

Once  outside  McGee  buttoned  his  overcoat  to 
the  chin,  turned  up  the  collar,  pulled  down  his  hat, 
and  struck  out  in  long,  fast  strides,  the  little  boy  run- 
ning hard  to  keep  pace.  Turning  to  the  ocean  front, 
the  two  boarded  a  small  donkey  engine  coupled  to 
a  single  car  that  shunted  between  the  city  and  the 
mines.  Budd  clambered  up  on  the  coal  tender. 
The  man  sat  in  the  car  with  his  face  hidden  in  the 
high  coat-collar.  Outside  the  city  he  was  aware 
that  the  train  bad  been  flagged  and  two  people  were 
mounting  the  rear  steps  of  the  car. 

"Don't  let  us  go  forward!  Let  us  sit  here  at 
the  back  I    There  is  a  man  in  front!" 

The  voice  was  a  woman's,  thrilled,  suppressed. 
Knowing  that  the  car  was  only  used  by  employees 
of  the  Great  Consolidated,  and  being  of  an  inquir- 
ing turn  of  mind,  the  labor  delegate  felt  an  inclina- 
tion to  glance  round;  but  he  suspected  that  a  look 
might  hinder  conversation,  so  he  buried  his  face 
deeper. 

There  was  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  followed  by  a 
low  laugh  from  the  man. 

"I  am  mad — I  tell  you  it  is  perfect  madness  to 
go  off  with  you  for  an  afternoon  like  this!" 

Sam  McGee  pricked  up  his  ears.  A  woman's 
voice  can  have  peculiarly  musical  notes  when  certain 
emotions  play  the  strings.  If  the  labor  delegate 
could  have  stretched  his  ears  he  would,  but  the  man's 
answer  was  too  low  to  be  heard. 


r'  1 


THE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       223 

snarr-'L^tr,, """"""  ^'"'^'"8  herself  up  in  a 
snarl,    thought  the  practical  MrP.,.^.  "k  ^  .l  , 

_Do  I  „f,.^to  tell  you?" 

"He's  a  slick  one,"  thought  McGee.  "Fe  carri« 
an  acadent  policy,  he  does,"  cogitatecf  M  G  ! 
Something  m  the  low,  cautious,  even  tones  of  th.' 

.mint.  ""  'P"*  ■'«  >P"»g> 

S::  '^~  -  't'"^"-"  "'V""::  ra- 


224 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


himself  that  the  man  needed  external  stimulus  to 
make  him  as  pure  as  the  saints  of  Heaven. 

"Gee!  By  this  time  they'll  be  lookin'  in  each 
other's  eyes,  way  a  woman  looks  at  a  man,  way  a 
man  looks  at  a  woman,"  soliloquized  Mr.  Sam  Mc- 
Gee.  The  device  had  flashed  on  him  that,  if  he 
dropped  his  railroad  ticket  to  the  floor,  he  might 
glance  back  as  he  stooped  for  it;  but,  then,  he  was 
as  unxious  not  ;o  be  seen  as  he  was  to  see. 

"It  has  become  unendurable,"  the  woman  was 
saying.  "Then,  the  sea  always  calms  me;  or  else 
Madeline  1  You  have  ordered  the  horses  so  we 
can  drive  home  along  the  shore?  We  must  drive 
fast!    We  must  not  be  late  for  dinner!" 

The  mental  comments  of  Sam  McGee,  labor 
leader,  were  entirely  irrelevant. 

He  was  saying:  "Gee!  She'd  better  not  jump 
from  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire !  Who  the  deuce 
are  they?  They  must  be  high  mucky-mucks,  or  they 
couldn't  have  flagged  the  train !  Madeline — who's 
Madel'ne?  And  he's  to  drive  fast  is  he?  Um- 
hum  1" 

"Look  at  that  little  boy  on  the  tender,  Dorvall 
I  do  believe  it  is!" 

"By  Jove!"    The  man  laughed. 

"Let  us  go  out  by  the  back  of  the  car!  If  he 
should  tell  Madeline?" 

"Pshaw  1  He  wouldn't  know  you  through  that 
veil!" 

"Oho,"  thought  Mr.  Sam  McGee.  The  angry 
memory  had  flashed  to  flame. 


"■Jll^   ' 


'^HE  CREED  WORKED  OUT       225 

When  the  train  pulled  into  the  mining  station  Mc- 
Gee  hung  back,  looking  from  the  windol  at  the  trap 
w.th  livened  coachman  and  glossy  pair.     A  turn    a 
tnck,  a  smuous.ty,  a  shadow  of  motion  to  the  slim 
figure  of  the  heavily  veiled  woman  blew  McGee^ 
ca.  .on  to  the  .Inds.     He  bolted  for  the  front  door 
of    he  car  and  met  the  couple  on  a  narrow  plank 
leadmg  to  the  carriage.     The  woman  wore  a  sable 
coat  to  her  feet;  a  heavy  veil  hid  her  features.    Her 
McGee  let  pass;  but  ti.e  man  he  confronted  squarely 
a  tall  man  ma  steamer  coat  with  a   steamer  cap 
drawn  over  h,s  eyes.     There  flashed  to  the  labor 
leaders   face  the   fire  of  a   concentrated  hate,   re- 
venge-vmlent  homicidal_a  loathing  that  easts  off 
the  restramts  of  civilization  like  wisps  of  straw  bind 
■  ng  a  pnm,t,ve  giant;  but  the  steamer  coat  was  so 

loriced""'"'  '  ""^  ^'°^'  ^"^^^  ^^^G"  P--d 
"Budd,  boy-look !  Look  af  that  man  !  Look  at 
hun.  Sonny!"  McGee  caught  the  child  by  the  arm 
«-.th  a  gnp  of  iron  that  bruised  the  child's  flesh. 
i-ook-Iook-look  so  you-11  know  him  again  if 
you  see  him  in  hell!"  *' 

and  the  trap  went  rattling  down  the  ri^■c■r  road  to 
the  sea. 

"And  ifs  for  them-it-s  for  them-it's  for  the 
1  ke  o  them  that  the  workmen  sweats  and  give  their 
b!ood-and-and  their  women's  souls'"     ^ 

[he  grip  on  the  boy's  arm  slackened. 


Sonny,  what's  Miss  C 


onnor'b  first  name?" 


226 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Madeline,"  gulped  Budd,  "and  you  needn't 
think  my  arm's  a  pump  handle!" 

Sam  McGee  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed — 
and  laughed. 

"I  don't  see  nothin'  funny!  I  don't  call  this 
much  of  a  lark,"  mumbled  the  boy,  fondling  his  sore 
arm. 

"Come  on,  Budd — we'll  fish  I  Funnier  fish  get 
into  your  net  than  you'd  think  for,  youngster!  It's 
nothing,  boy;  nothing,  'cept  that  the  chickens  are 
coming  home  to  roost!  God's  running  the  old  show 
yet,  Budd !  The  chickens  are  coming  home  to  roost ! 
God's  doing  business  at  the  old  stand !"  With  ^hcch 
enigmatical  speech  Sam  McGee,  labor  leader, 
laughed  again,  as  if  Demos  himself  had  opened  his 
mouth  to  roar  and  literally  could  not  stop. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  CREED  AND  THE  LABOR  LEADER 

for  his  tr"i!      ^'^  '°""'^"  °^  '''  -'-  -  the  run 

"Oh    fishin'  suckers,"  answered  McGee    turnin., 
along  the  river  path  below  the  cliffs  ^ 

Am  t   that   a    lie,    Uncle   Sam?"    asked   Budd 
breakmg  mto  a  trot  to  keep  up  ' 

"I  guess  we'll  catch  some  suckers,  all  right-  but 
't  "  a  lie,  just  the  same!  '  ^ 

Budd  hitched  his  brace  straps  up. 
What  d'y' tell  a  lie  for'" 

'i\7'TZTV' l'''^^''^  the  labor  leader. 

t>a>,     f"dd  broke  from  a  trot  to  a  run  in  order 

to  peer  m  his  uncle's  face  "Mis,  Cnn.  , 

«•-  necessary  to  tell  lies'?"  '''''  '*  '"" 

;;it  isn't  for  her-she  don't  need  'em,  Budd!" 

Lh."     Say  that  again,"  demanded  Budd    an  in 

"Say,  Uncle  Sam,"  panted  Budd,  "it  it's  necessarv 
Wh.ch  k,te  would  you  h.tch  your  tail  to,  if  you  wuz 

337 


128 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


But  the  answer  to  that  question  was  deferred  by 
the  labor  leader  coming  to  a  sudden  halt  below  the 
tunnel  mouths  of  the  hillside. 

"Shaft  lo  .  .  .  .  angle  forty-five  ....  straight 
dip  ...  .  cast  a  hundred  yards  ....  that's 
about  here,"  cogitated  McGee,  gazing  first  at  the 
hill,  then  at  the  river  swirling  black,  oily,  treacherous 
round  a  shadowy  cove  that  cut  into  the  base  of  the 
cliff.  He  left  the  path,  scrambled  down  the  bank, 
shovpd  an  old  punt  out  on  the  shore  ice,  bade  Budd 
take  the  oars  and,  with  one  push  of  the  pole,  was 
out  on  the  water. 

"Let  her  swing  loose,  Budd!  See  what  she'll 
do!" 

"Funny  fishing  tackle  you've  got.  Uncle  Sam," 
observed  the  boy,  kicking  a  huge  grappling  iron 
fastened  to  coils  of  rope  in  the  bottom  of  the  punt. 

The  old  craft  rocked  uneasily  as  the  boy  bal- 
anced his  oars.  It  swirled  to  the  oily  circling  of  the 
current,  glided  unsteadily  closer  and  closer  to  the 
hill,  till,  with  a  quick  sucking  of  the  keel,  the  prow 
bounced  forward  antl  shot  out  in  mid-river. 

"Row  her  back,  Budd,"  ordered  the  man,  leaning 
over  the  stern  on  his  knees. 

"Gee!"  gasped  Budd.  "How  she  bucks,  Uncle 
Sam!    She  won't — go!" 

The  boy  strained  with  all  his  might  on  both 
oars. 

"Steer  her  for  the  middle  of  the  cove!  It's  calm 
there!  I'll  bet  things  sink  and  settle  there!"  And 
McGec  began  working  his  pole  astern  till  the  old 


CREED  AND  LABOR  LEADER   229 

"Mo,.  swirling  current. 

:\ow— row— row  slow!" 
"Say^ " 

n..«  w„h  ,„„,  b„i„,  t„„t,j  „ ,  b';s,t' 

sh/f^lh!  ?u  '  '*'  y°"  *°  ^^^  bottom  of  the 
shaft  where  the  rats  will  eat  you— if  you  tell  I  hI  ? 
How  wil   you  like  that  ^     tL^v     '  ^° "/  Heh? 

Budd'.  j»„  chattered  and  shook  with  fright.    Hi, 


»30 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


arms  grew  suddenly  weak.  The  old  punt  circled 
round  and  round  the  glossy  calm  of  the  cove,  the 
labor  leader,  stern  and  silent,  paying  out  the  rope 
....  dragging  ....  dragging  the  heavy  grap- 
pling hook  o\er  the  soft  clay  at  bottom. 

The  sun  went  down  cradled  in  cloud  banks  of 
crimson  over  the  far-heaving  sea.  The  river  rolled 
past  the  dark  of  the  sheltered  cove,  molten  with 
scales  of  light,  a  tremulous,  quicksilvered  flood;  and 
a  night  wind  swept  up  the  valley,  mournful  and 
restless  as  the  sleepless  waves.  Why  was  man,  like 
the  restless  wind,  a  disturber  of  the  calm  and  se- 
curity provid  "d  in  God? 

McGec,  the  labor  leader,  did  not  speak.  Once  he 
turned  and,  seeing  Budd  shivering,  tossed  his  own 
overcoat  across  to  the  boy.  Here  and  there  lights 
began  twinkling  from  the  miners'  bunk  houses 
through  the  dark  of  the  hillside  in  hairy  beams  that 
sent  long  spars  of  trembling  shafts  across  the  muf- 
fled river.  The  waters  rose  and  fell  with  little  laps 
and  lisps  and  splashes  against  the  keel  of  the  punt; 
and  the  loneh-  wind  sounded  a  thin,  querulous  treble 
of  complaint.  Frightened  clouds  stole  stealthily 
across  a  downy  sky,  hiding  the  cusp  of  a  wan  moon. 
There  was  something  pallid,  something  like  death 
in  the  lonely  stillness  of  the  night,  with  shadows 
gathering  round  the  wimpled  hills  and  all  the 
painted  glory  of  the  western  sea  fading  to  the  cold, 
glossy,  rippling  darkness.  The  night  was  starless 
with  lights  springing  to  life  on  the  dim  hillside  in  a 
glow  of  warmth. 


CREI-D  AND  LABOR  LEADER      231 

Perhaps  other  hoys  like  Budd  were  up  there  in 
the  miners'  cottages  eating  hot  suppers  in  shincy 
kitchens,  with  busy  mothers  and  big,  gruff  fathers. 
What  were  the  struggles  of  the  two  (.reat  Blind 
I- orces— Capital  and  Labor,  each  with  shadowy 
tools  working  in  the  dark— to  Budd,  the  carefree 
boy?  Budd  lacked  the  imagination  of  ambition. 
At  that  moment  he  was  whimpering  and  wishing 
himself  up  in  the  humble  shelter  of  the  bunk  houses. 

Suddenly  a  blue  glare  cut  the  dark  like  a  gigantic 
sword  of  fork  lightning.  A  shrill  scream  set  the 
hills  echoing;  and  a  coal  barge  whistled  round  an 
elbow  of  the  river  with  a  monotonous  lift  and  fall 

•  ■  •  lift  and  fall  of  her  whccl-rod.  The  search- 
light of  the  prow  fell  on  the  labor  leader,  bare- 
headed, eager,  water-soaked,  wilh  sleexes  rolled  to 
elbows,  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  punt  .  .  .  wind- 
ing in  ...  .  winding  in  ....  the  line. 

"It's  like  God  them  searchlights,"  he  muttered, 
kneeling  at  gaze  as  the  barge  huffed  past.  "You  may 
monkey   along  ....  monkey   along  in   the   murk 

•  ...  the  dark  hiding  y'  and  all  y'  do!  'Cause  it's 
dark  y'  tink  God  don't  see?  But  somebody  turns 
on  the  searchlight:  ...  it  gits  to  be  known:  .  .  . 
It  gits  to  be  known;  .  .  .  and  ye  might  as  well  be 
a  worm  squirmin'  on  the  end  of  a  stick  above  fire! 
That  light's  God's  sword;  and  .  .  .  you're 

in  ...  .  fc-_hell!" 

But  the  searchlight  had  fallen  on  more  than  the 
fanatic  with  his  mystic  dreams.  The  boy  at  the 
oars  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  of  sheer  terror.   Some- 


S3* 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


thing  had  bumped  the  keel  of  the  punt,  turned  over 
heavily,  and  an  upright  arm  struck  stiflly  against  the 
oarlocks.  A  cold  hand,  hard,  swollen,  clotted  with 
clay,  touched  the  boy's  face. 

Budd  tumbled  back  senseless.  The  labor  leader 
seized  the  dead  hand  and,  when  it  slipped  clammily 
from  his  grip,  he  grasped  the  wrist. 


CMAFIKR  XVII 


AFTERWARDS 

If  we  could  completely  dissever  the  past  from  the 
present,  ami  the  present  from  the  future,  life  would 
be  a  much  simpler  affair;  self-satisfaction,  a  s.ifer  in- 
vestment. A  good  deal  can  be  done  to  separate 
causes  from  their  effects  and  acts  from  those  results 
conmionly  known  as  retribution,  by  change  of  resi- 
dence. The  American  forger  prefers  I'lurope  to  his 
native  land;  but,  unluckily,  the  bad  juilgment  that 
made  forgery  possible,  the  deception  that  was  con- 
stantly playing  a  double  part  to  the  world,  the  sus- 
picion on  the  look-out  for  detection— somehow  knits 
info'"^  f;Ker  of  the  character.  These  go  to  Europe 
'  ■  '  resolutions  and  weave  a  new  life  after 

Some  such  thoughts  vaguely  troubled  Mr.  Dorval 
Hebden  the  night  after  the  drive  along  the  sea  road. 
He  had  let  himself  in  with  his  latch-key,  still  dressed 
in  the  steamer  overcoat  and  jaunting  cap.  His  valet 
shuffled  sleepily  into  the  billiard-room  and  set  a  tray 
with  hot  water  and  decanter  before  his  master. 

"Is  my  mother  home  yet?" 

"No,  sir." 

Hebden  stirred  the  hot  water, 
233 


»34 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Anything  more,  sir?" 

"No — you  may  go  I" 

He  had  been  startled  to  see  from  a  buffet  mirror 
that  his  usually  ruddy  face  looked  ashy. 

"This    is    absurd — sheer    school-boy    nonsense  1" 

He  stirred  ferociously  at  the  glass.  But,  whether 
absurd  or  not,  it  was  plain — even  to  himself,  who 
did  not  wish  to  see — that  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  was 
shaken  from  his  wonted  calm.  Two  glasses  failed 
to  restore  the  color  to  his  face,  which  had  become 
drawn  and  hard.  His  light,  lusterless  brown  eyes 
gleamed  redly. 

"It's  perfectly  absurd!" 

Hebden  turned  from  the  reflection  of  his  face 
to  sink  in  a  deep  armchair.  He  slowly  drew  a 
cigarette  from  its  case  and,  with  exaggerated  de- 
liberation, struck  a  match. 

"It  would  be  a  dev'lish  comic  hobble,  if  she  meant 
it,"  he  told  himself,  emitting  a  curling  wreath  of 
smoke  from  h's  smiling  lips. 

"Pure  as  the  very  saints  in  Heaven?"  A  curl  of 
smoke  went  wreathing  high  in  mid-air.  "I  presume 
it's  a  Paradise  ...  of  the  Persian  brand?"  An- 
other curl  of  smoke.  "Do  women  think  that  men 
are  fools?"  Having  thus  apostrophized  more  smoke- 
wreaths,  the  hard  lines  about  the  mouth  elongated 
into  a  smile.  The  smile  widened  to  a  laugh — soft, 
cynical,  taunting.  "My  word,  she  made  me  swear 
enough  oaths  to  found  a  new  priesthood." 

"Does  she  do  that  to  draw  me  on?  .  .  .  Cool 
offi  .  .   .  See  what  she  will  do?  .  .   .  She  can't 


AFTERWARDS 


*35 

draw    back    without    humiliation?  ...  She    ha, 

avowed  too  much!  Ye*    hv  t  l 

cares  I  R.  /  u  -  j  "j  '  ^  J°''^'  '''^    '■^olh 

AnA    ^r    ^^"''  '^'^  "''gh'  l*""  their  fingers  " 

intoxicating  Lr4:r:urEi:htThrd"H:L:;: 

rnounfng  to  drowsy  dreams,  or  the  drive  by  The 
sea  had  furn.shed  food  of  an  ambrosial  sort  or 
memones  absorbed  him  in  a  concentrated  conscious 

r:  rbvtf  '^ '"' "°  ^'" '°  ---•  "g^-  ^e 

ri!L?n  ^1,  ^"'.""^'•'"g  vows  that  he  had  no 
ngh  to  make ;  tempting  avowal  that  he  had  no  righ" 
to  hear;  and  the  memories  troubled  him.  .  .  He 
had  sa.d  so  much  more  than  he  had  meant  to  say 
no  more  than  he  meant  in  the  saying.  .  .  He  dfd 
not  remember  how  it  had  come  aLut;  but  hfknew 

duct,  had  thnlled  and  carried  him  off  his  feet  quite 
as  much  as  ,t  could  possibly  have  affected  hen  ' 
They  had  driven  for  miles  in  silence-  the 

lZri7!°°'''  °^  P^^^  ^°'''  —  the'rippl  ng 
ak     o      of  ^°^^-"-'!  °f  ~t  faded  to^'wan' 

of  a  rnlV  'T'^  ^'^P'  °^  ^'o"-^^-     The  horn 

of  a  cold  moon  shone  m  the  shimmering  expanse 
of  the  sea  ■  and  a  chill,  as  of  death,  swept  up  the  val 
icy  on  a  lonely  night  wind.  ^ 

•'Ashes  of  roses,"  she  had  said,  with  one  wave 
of  her  hand  toward  the  fading  sea.    Her  voice  had 


It 


236 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


stolen  on  him  soft  and  enveloping  as  light.  Then 
their  eyes  had  met,  one  fleeting,  swift  glance,  and, 
somehow,  the  air-threads,  the  thistle-down,  the  gos- 
samer of  meaningless  words  had  merged  into  a  net, 
that  was  about  them  both  irresistibly.  Hebden  had 
broken  out  with  vows  he  had  never  meant  to  utter- 
she  with  protests  that  acknowledged  what  they  de- 
nied. 

Then  the  silence  had  been  freighted  with  mean- 
ing that  surprised  Hebden.     He  had  had  no  idea 
that  any  woman  could  carry  him  beyond  the  limits 
of  caution  and  prudence   and  safety  in  that  way. 
If  her  voice,  her  look,  her  personality  had  not  in- 
toxicated him   he  would   not  have   expressed  that 
folly  about  life  henceforth  being  a  blank.  Evidently, 
the  matches,  not  the  combustibles,  are  at  fault  when 
powder  goes  up  in  an  explosion.      "No,   ...  no, 
.   ..."  she  had  protested  when  he  uttered  that  non- 
sense about  life  going  out  in  blackness;  ....  and 
what  was  it  he  had  answered?  ....  Actually,  he 
had  been  so  excited  that  he  could  not  recall ;  only, 
he  was  quite  sure  that  it  was  something  that  gave 
her  a  sort  of  claim,  that  threw  down  all  barriers  on 
his  part,  that  removed  all  pretense  of  mere  friend- 
ship.   He  had  been  a  fool.   .  .   .  That  was  the  plain 
truth.    The  sting  of  remorse  was  in  the  imprudence 
of  what  he  had  said,  not  the  dishonor,  not  the  dan- 
ger to  her. 

Then  a  strange  thing  had  happened. 
They  had  lingered  for  dinner  out  at  the  Sea  Bright 
Chalet.  He  had  not  observed  the  fact  at  the  time, 


AFTERWARDS 


237 

but  now  recalled  with  relief,  there  had  luckily  been 
no  other  8^,ests  at  the  villa.     Driving  home  in  si" 
lence  they  had  heard  the  night  wind  fweep  th    s 
wth  mournful  cadences.  A  solitary  land  bird  wheeled 
'  s   flight  homeward.      Once,   where   the   road  ran 

stri;faSe^„rnr""^""-^^^^'°'^^ 
"Poor  bird,"  she  had  said,  with  a  i.Aver 
He  trembled  to  think  what  madness  he  might 
have  uttered.   ...  The  witchery  of  her  beau^  o 
her  trust,  of  her  unhappiness,  of  her  folly,  of  her 
closeness    was  upon  him.   .  .  .   I„  another  momen 
he  would  have  put  himself  outside  the  pale  of  Mr" 
Ward  s  acquamtance  by  proposing  some  school-boy 
m  lodrama ;  but,  just  as  the  horses  were  crossing  the 
bndge  beyond  the  mines,  there  arose  on  the  night 

he  pa,r  plunging.  1  hen  a  scream,  a  terrified  scream 
hke  the  vo.ce  of  a  lost  soul,  cut  the  darkness.  A  tS 
very  memory  Hebden's  blood  chilled  to  ice.  It  was 
as  If  murder,  crime,  irremediable  wrong,  found 
vo.ce  m  that  piercing  scream,  haunting  the  night, 
it"   ■   ■     w,"'?  T" '^■■"'"'^'' °^  ^"y'hing  like 

ecallV  ^'1"^""^^"'™-   ••   -What  did  it 

recal  .    .  .  t  was  hke  a  curse  emerging  from 

he  gloom  of  a  dead  past  to  pursue  a  man's  soul  with 

nd""      •  ;h    V^  """  "^"•''^  '^--'^  "f  ^he 

W^'  ■  ■         ,    "^'  P'"""S'  '^^""f'"g  scream  I 

^.  .  Whowas.t? The  horses  bolted.  . 

Hebden  came  to  himself  with  both   reins  wound 
round  and  round  his  hands,  himself  pulled  to  a 


138 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


standing  posture  braced  back  with  all  his  strength, 
his  companion  sitting  stony  with  fear,  the  horses 
at  a  gallop  pounding  through  the  sea-fog  that  came 
drifting  landward  knife-thick. 

And  the  horses  kept  that  pace  all  the  way  to  the 

city. 

It  was  absurd,  of  course;  but,  as  the  steel-shod 
hoofs  flashed  through  the  fog,  Hebden  couU  not 
rid  his  mind  from  the  impression  of  a  woman  down 
there  in  the  mire  who  had  uttered  that  scream. 
Sometimes  the  form  resembled  her  of  the  long 
ago,  ;  the  closed  incident,  on  which  Hebden  had 
shut  the  door  witli  a  hardened  heart,  when  he  went 
to  Europe,  out  of  sight,  out  of  memory.  Then, 
again,  the  figure  of  the  flying  mist  was  the  woman 
by  his  side;  down  ....  down  ....  down  with 
streaming,  upturned,  pleading  eyes,  and  the  brand 
of  infamy  on  her  face;  .  .  .  down  ....  in  the 
mire  ....  under  the  feet  ....  of  villainy! 

They  had  not  spoken  again;  and,  when  he  reined 
the  quivering  horses  in  at  her  home,  he  was  trem- 
bling and  spent  as  they 

"How  alarmed  you  are,"  she  said,  as  she  touched 
his  hand  to  spring  out. 
"Yes,"  he  returned  curtly. 

"So  was  I,"  she  confessed.  "If  there  had  been 
an  accident,  it  would  have  been  horrible.  Oh,  we 
were  both  mad— perfectly  mad!" 

"Good-night,"  he  had  answered  shortly. 
And  now,  sitting  in  the  billiard-room,  the  same 
hallucination  hac  come  back;  the  scream  from  the 


AFTERWARDS 


239 


dark;  ...  the  wild  stampede  through  the  mist,  for 
all  the  world  like  his  own  rush  to  Europe  away 
from  the  consequences  of  his  acts;  ....  the  curious 
impression  of  a  woman's  face  down  ....  down  in 
the  mire,  with  streaming,  upturned  eyes  pleading 
for  the  hope  that  was  to  go  out  in  darkness;  .... 
Her,  of  the  closed  incident,  long  ago;  .  .  .  her,  of 
the  present;  ...  yes,  and  there  was  to  be  an- 
other, away  ....  far  ahead  ...  in  a  hazy  fu- 
ture .  .  ,  One,  .  .  .  pure,  innocent,  trusting 
....  worthy  to  be  his  wife!  It  was  like  past 
....  present  ....  future:  the  closed  incident; 
...  the  present  folly;  ...  the  Forward  Hope! 
The  mistake  was  in  thinking  that  he  could  dissever 
those  three — past  ....  present  ....   future  1 

So  absorbed  in  thought  was  Hcbden  that  he  did 
not  notice  an  elderly  woman  with  a  great  mass  of 
white  hair  above  her  forehead  in  puffs  holding  a 
gold  lorgnette  before  her  eyes  and  wearing  an  er- 
mine opera  cloak,  quietly  entering  the  billiard-room. 
The  poise  of  the  chin  was  aggressive,  the  tight-set 
lips  hard  with  decision,  the  cast  of  the  full  eyes  ar- 
rogant. She  was  looking  at  him  through  the  lorg- 
nette. He  had  covered  his  face  with  one  hand. 
The  cigarette  was  out.  Her  brows  contracted  to  a 
sharp  intersection  above  the  ridge  of  the  nose. 

She  noticed  that  he  was  not  in  evening  clothes. 
He  still  wore  the  steamer  coat.     She  drew  her  head 

so  far  back  that  she  seemed  to  be  looking  down a 

trick  of  Mrs.  Hebden's  eyes  that  struck  terror  to 
the  timid. 


I  1 

.,   I 

I'  ' 

1^  i  ' 


;'t 


340 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


"Dorval?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  mother?" 

He  led  her  to  a  chair  as  if  she  had  been  a  queen. 

"You  did  not  come  to  the  theatre?" 

"No,  mother." 

"You  have  not  been  out  to  dinner?" 

"No — I  had  a  snack  out  at  the  Sea  Bright  Chalet! 
I  had  the  pair  out  for  a  spin — such  a  fine  winter  day, 
you  know?" 

The  mother  said  nothing;  that  Is,  she  lowered  her 
lorgnette,  which  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

"I've  arranged  two  cruises,  Dorval." 

Silence. 

"We  go  South  next  week!  In  spring  the  cruise 
for  the  Mediterranean  is  arranged." 

"Lady  Helen  will  join  us,  Dorval.  She  is  own  first 
cousin  by  your  father's  side." 

"Oh,"  said  Hebden  irritably.  He  had  been  hear- 
ing of  own  first  cousins  and  ancestors  all  his  life. 

"You  must  not  let  any  entanglements  interfere 
with  your  permanent  arrangements,  Dorval." 

He  leaned  over  the  back  of  her  chair,  stroking 
her  hair  affectionately. 

"My  fond,  scheming,  ambitious  mother  1" 

"These  are  your  plans,  Dorval?" 

"Plans  for  me,"  he  corrected  gently. 

Silence.     She  turned  to  him. 

"You  were  not  alone  at  the  Sea  Bright?  Be 
careful,  son!  It  is  not — it  is  not — anyone  con- 
nected with  the  past?" 

"Mother,"  he  interrupted  harshly,  with  a  sense 


AITERWARDS  24, 

that  he  was  being  sorely  used  by  any  reference  to 
tne  past  I  thought  we  were  to  regard  ihat  inci- 
dent  as  closed !" 

Her  cloak  fell  back.  The  well-formed  shoulders 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Bri'ht?"^''   "'"'   "'*"   ^*'  '^'''*  ^°"   "  ""'   ^" 

Hebden  reflected;  then  realized  that  frankness  is 
sometimes  the  best  deception. 

''It  was  Mrs.  Ward,  mother!  Now  are  you  satis- 
ned,  you  jealous  mother?" 

shouWelr''"'   ''"''"^  '''   """"''   ^''''''   ''"'= 

"Dear  me  1    What  a  fright  you  gave  me  1    Satis- 

necl  .  .  .     ? Quite !    Married  women  are  quite 

safe;  only — son " 

"Rubbish,"  he  interrupted,  kissing  her. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


ONE   WAY  TO    RECOVER    A    CONSCIENCE 

It  would  have  puzzled  Hebden  to  explain  what 
induced  him  to  sit  for  a  portrait  by  Madeline  Con- 
nor. Perhaps  the  most  of  motives  would  be  as 
puzzling  if  subjected  to  the  crucible  of  candor.  He 
told  himself  that  it  was  to  help  a  deservmg  artist, 
and  took  some  credit  for  this  kindness.  That  is, 
he  told  himself,  when  certain  vague  emotions  might 
have  clamored  loud  enough  to  sound  like  self-re- 
proach; or  might  have  come  clearly  enough  to  the 
surface  of  his  conscience  to  present  ugly  outlines; 
like  the  sea-serpent  oozing  at  bottom  most  of  the 
time,  but  coming  up  often  enough  to  establish  the 
legend  of  its  exister'-e. 

It  was  the  old  question  of  the  dual  nature:  one 
self,  credited  with  virtue,  kept  in  front  as  the  true 
stature  of  the  man;  the  other,  hidden  even  from  his 
own  thoughts,  condoned,  and,  as  it  were,  domesti- 
cated. Hebden  had  begun,  the  way  life  begins  with 
all:  with  what  he  was  and  what  he  intended  to  be- 
come- and  he  always  judged  himself  by  his  inten- 
tions.' When  he  looked  back  on  his  life  he  some- 
times felt  like  a  man  coming  suddenly  on  a  mirror; 
he  was  shocked  at  an  ugly  face.  That  Past  was  of 
242 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE      243 

his  making;  but  how  came  it  to  wear  such  ugly 
features?  Hebden  would  forget  the  ugly  face  in 
his  eagerness  to  create  excuses.  Other  men  would 
have  done  the  same.  He  had  suffered  sufficiently 
for  atonement.  He  had  not  meant  that  certain 
consequences  should  flow  from  what  he  had  done. 
Mow  was  he  to  know  that  a  girl  would  go  to  the 
devil  because — ;  he  always  stopped  there;  but  he 
was  not  to  blame.  And  then,  like  the  ink  of  the 
devil-fish  clouding  clearest  waters,  the  venom  of  the 
s:iake  protecting  itself  with  its  own  poison,  came 
clouds  of  witnesses — suspicion  of  other  people's 
honor,  goodness,  virtue.  The  whole  world  would 
have  done  the  same  as  he  had  in  the  same  circum- 
stances; therefore,  a  good  part  of  the  world  had 
done  the  same,  only  succeeded  in  concealment. 
Therefore,  he  was  as  good  as,  if  not  better  than, 
other  men.  The  process  of  reasoning  by  age-old 
repetition.    There  is  no  limit  in  lust  or  folly. 

If  Hebden  could  have  lifted  himself  up  in  a 
series  of  frog-leaps,  he  might  have  attained  his  high 
purposes.  He  could  carry  out  occasional  aspirations 
by  leaps.  It  was  on  the  steady  pull  of  the  long 
stretch  that  he  failed.  To  him,  life  was  to  be  an 
experiment  on  the  best  ways  of  obtaining  the  most 
happiness;  but  he  did  not  reckon  on  it  being  as 
impossible  to  mend  the  wrecked  life  as  the  smashed 
crucible.  To  him,  experience  was  to  be  the  only 
guide.  He  forgot  that  experience  may  be  a  rear- 
end  light,  casting  shadows  on  a  path  to  ruin.  He 
did  not  give  people  credit  for  goodness,  for  self- 


244 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


sacrifice,  for  honor;  because — consistent  hedonist 
that  he  was — he  held  the  firm  belief  that  people  who 
chose  goodness,  self-sacrifice,  honor,  derived  more 
pleasure  from  that  kind  of  life  than  from  the  oppo- 
site. With  him,  virtue  was  what  would  be  safest 
in  the  long  run;  goodness,  what  would  be  pleasant- 
est.  It  did  not  enter  Hebden's  mind  that,  per- 
haps, the  pleasantness  in  the  long  run  might  depend 
on  the  goodness.  He  considered  that  his  own  mis- 
steps had  been  mistakes,  not  vjrongs;  bad  experi- 
ments, not  bad  character;  weakness,  not  malice;  the 
stings  of  the  jelly-fish,  not  the  recrudescence  of  the 
brute. 

But,  however  jocose  our  self-excuse  may  be,  na- 
ture is  a  grimmer  satirist.  You  may  prove  you  were 
not  to  blame,  because  you  did  not  know  there  was  a 
precipice;  but,  all  the  same,  if  you  go  over  the  edge 
there  is  a  smash.  You  may  prove  you  were  not  to 
blame;  but,  while  you  prattle,  nature  is  writing  her 
laws  in  blood  flowing  from  your  own  blunders. 
You  may  have  suffered.  That  does  not  prove  you 
will  not  suffer  more  and  eat  the  fruits  of  your  own 
deeds,  and  find  the  eating  bitter. 

Hebden  'lad  not  lived  for  forty  years  without 
facing  naked  truth  occasionally.  There  had  been 
moments  of  scaldi.^-  self-contempt.  Sometimes  he 
felt  like  a  man  stripped  and  weaponless,  confront- 
ing a  giant the    giant  of  reality  ....  his 

Past!  Again,  it  was  as  if  a  mar:  had  been  hurled 
out  a  dust  speck  on  a  raging  chaos  of  storm  winds : 
what  did  his  clatter  of  creeds  and  excuses  matter 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE     245 

in  a  war  of  worlds,  of  principalitiw  and  poweri, 
of  spirit  and  flesh?  That  feeling  had  first  come 
when  she  of  the  closed  incident  threw  herself  on 
the  floor  at  hi,  feet  with  streaming  eyes  and  white 
lips,  tellmg  him  that  her  mother  had  killed  herself 
For  a  second  Hebden  had  felt  as  if  a  world  of  dark- 
ness  had  crushed  down  on  him;  as  if  pleasantness 
might  get  entangled  with  crime;  as  if  the  unreckoned 
consequences  of  acts  might  become  the  furies  cours- 
ng  at  one's  heels  through  an  eternity.  He  remem- 
bered how  his  mother  had  come  in,  finding  him 
bowed  and  blanched;  how  she  had  whisked  him  off 
to  Europe;  how  the  Incident  was  properly  relegated 
to  that  large  class  commonly  known  as  Closed 

He  had  first  seen  Madeline  entering  the  art 
studio.  The  unusual  combination  of  a  hectic  flush 
tokening  death,  and  motions  full  of  fiery  verve,  drew 
his  id'.e  glance  back.  Hebden  was  not  used  to  look- 
ing twice  at  women  without  the  object  of  his  glances 
becoming  conscious  of  the  fact.  The  girl  was  gaz- 
ing past  h.m  without  seeing  him;  and  he  knew  it 
Also,  he  became  aware  of  color,  and  form,  and 
motion  that  pleased  his  sense  of  the  artistic. 

H.'.  had  gone  to  the  studio  to  select  a  picture  and 
became  cognizant  of  the  additional  fact  that  a 
voice  with  little  breaks  and  tremors,  like  ripples  of 
pure  gold,  can  add  charm  to  the  artistic.  The  girl 
was  umistakably  well-born.  fVho  was  she;  and 
nhy  was  she  earning  her  living? 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  upper  nature,  which 
appreciated  color  and  form  impersonally,  blended 


146 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


vaguely  wiili  a  lower.  That  wain't  the  way  Hebden 
thought  about  it:  he  was  aware,  in  a  sort  of  subcon- 
scious way,  that  it  was  not  siifc  to  become  personally 
interested  in  people  who  earned  their  living,  espe- 
cially when  the  earner  was  encased  in  a  Psyche  mold, 
with  an  upper  lip  of  the  Diana  cast.  It  recurred 
to  him  whimsically,  with  an  almost  supercilious 
scorn  of  himself,  that  the  brief  talk  in  the  studio 
had  called  uppermost — like  the  resurrection  of  a 
dead  possibility — the  memory  of  a  better  manhood, 
what  he  had  intended  ....  and  somehow  missed. 

In  one  of  their  interchanges  of  confidence  he  had 
asked  Mrs.  Ward  why  some  women  had  it  in  their 
pov.-er  to  make  a  fellow  feel  that  he  might  be  a 
better  sort.  The  long  lashes  had  lifted,  the  lus- 
trous eyes  flashed  an  imperious  question.  Hebden 
had  not  meant  to  be  understood  in  that  way.  He 
did  not  happen  to  be  offering  incense  at  the  altar 
of  vanity  when  he  asked  that  question;  so  he  blurted 
out  a  great  deal  more  than  he  meant:  s;iying  that 
he  had  seen  a  girl  who  embodied  his  ideal  of  woman- 
hood. Again  the  languid  lift  of  the  arched  brows. 
It  was  quite  apparent  that  Mrs.  Ward  could  scarcely 
believe  that  he  had  not  referred  to  herself. 

Hebden  smiled  with  curious  self-gratulation  to  see 
the  delicate  flush  of  piqued  surprise  steal  under  the 
pallid  skin.  At  that  moment  man's  confidence  and 
woman's  vanity  challenged.  Mrs.  Ward  met  the 
challenge  by  inviting  Madeline  Connor  to  the  house 
and  introducing  Hebden.  Hebden  no  longer  felt 
so  certain  that  Mrs.  Ward  had  been  piqued.     He 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIEN'CE      247 

countered  by  titting  for  a  portrait  by  the  young 
artist. 

The  sittings  had  not  Hcen  a  particular  success. 
His  ideals,  as  clothed  in  ,s  own  imagination  and 
as  clotheii  in  flesh  on  a  camp  stool  studying  his  fea- 
tures as  impersonally  as  if  he  had  been  a  man  of 
wood— proved  antagonistic.  Hebden's  attitude  to 
women  was  never  impersonal.  It  was  distinctly  the 
attitude  of  a  man  to  a  woman;  and  he  had  begun 
with  Madeline  as  he  did  with  all  women — by  an 
attempt  to  break  down  the  impersonal. 

"It  is  rather  droll,"  he  said,  "to  be  sitting  here 
for  a  picture  by  you,  when  I  am  looking  at  a  finer 
picture  than  could  be  painted." 

Madeline  had  gone  on  painting — "not  turned  a 
hair,"  as  Hebden  expressed  it  to  himself  with  super- 
cilious amusement. 

"It's  a  question  with  me  which  picture  I'm  here 
for?" 

There  was  no  response  save  the  oozing  of  burnt 
umber  squeezed  from  a  paint  tube. 

"The  girl  distinctly  jacks  femininity!  She  is  not 
lovable,"  thought  Hebden.  "Ten  years  from  now 
she  will  be  one  of  the  stale  proprieties  I  Peach  with 
its  bloom  taken  off  by  work!" 

At  the  same  time  he  noticed  that  her  fingers 
tapered  delicately  at  the  tips.  While  she  did  not 
smile  to  exhibit  a  play  of  teeth,  the  teeth  were  pearl 
and  small  when  a  glint  of  white  appeared  between 
the  parted  lips.    "In  a  word,"  thought  Hebden,  "she 


248 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


lacks  soul,  sex,  womanliness,  graclousness,  the  seduc- 
tive charm  of  appeal!" 

"It  may  not  be  good  art,"  he  drawled,  "but  I 
always  prefer  outdoors  to  pictures  of  outdoors; 
and,"  he  added,  absently,  "if  a  woman  is  worth 
looking  at  in  a  picture,  to  me  she  is  worth  a  good 
deal  more  outside  the  picture." 

The  artist  laid  down  her  brush  and  turned. 

"Oho,"  thought  Hebden,  "touched!" 

He  expected  at  least  a  flash  of  appreciation  from 
her  eyes. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  the  girl,  "you'll  have  to 
forgive  me!  I've  missed  what  you've  been  saying! 
I  can't  catch  the  expression  of  your  forehead!  The 
play  of  shadows,  .  .  ."  she  studied  him  as  she 
paused. 

The  expression  of  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden's  fore- 
head at  that  moment  was  elusive.  Its  complexion 
was  red.  He  left  the  studio  with  the  impression 
that  "the  girl  was  disagreeable,  work-tainted,  bread- 
and-buttery,  common,  epicene !  It  was  a  dickens 
of  a  hobble  that  he  had  begun  the  sittings;  but  he 
would  have  to  go  through  with  it."  He  was  dis- 
posed to  score  a  laugh  against  himself. 

At  the  second  sitting  Hebden  had  engaged  in  a 
species  of  fire  rockets,  sending  up  all  his  airiest 
badinage  by  way  of  dazzling  this  very  common- 
place, irresponsive  soul,  that  had  somehow  been 
born  in  a  Psyche  mold.  And  he  won  the  coveted 
flash  of  appreciation — an  entirely  personal  flash  of 
undisguised  merriment  that  opened  Hebden's  eyes 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE      249 

to  the  fact  that  "the  minx  might  be  laughing  in  her 
sleeve  He  distinctly  disliked  this  girl,  and  at  once 
took  his  revenge  by  a  delicately  narrated  account 
of  a  sensational  scandal.  A  banker  had  absconded 
with  the  funds  of  the  bank  and  the  wife  of  a  bank 
director.  It  was  adroitly  told.  Hebden  was  an 
adept. 

The  artist  laid  her  brush  down  and  turned  to  the 
man  with  eyes  that  asked  as  plainly  as  eyes  could 
speak-"/rAy.?"  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  could  tack  to 
a  veering  wind. 

"Don't  you  thin;  that  is  a  desperately  sad  case?" 
he  asked  "Seems  to  me  that  kind  of  woman  is  the 
modern  Circe— turns  men  to  .  .  .  ."  he  paused 
searching  her  face,  "to  fools,"  he  added.  "The 
fellow  would  never  have  embezzled  if  it  had  not 
been  for  her?" 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  man,"  retorted  the  girl 
quickly,      I  was  thinking of  the  woman! 

•  •  •  .  There  must  have  been  something  horrible 

•  .  .  .  terrible  in  her  love  for  him!  It's  horrible 
when  a  woman  .  .  .  or  a  man  either,  casts  away  the 
one  thing  of  existence!  ....  their  love!  .  .  The 
result  is  al-.vays  the  same— bread  to  dogs,  pearls  to 

swine,  a  jewel  in  a  swine's  snout "  Madeline 

began  talking  of  something  else. 

****** 
"What  do   yon   think   of   that   young   artist   of 
yours?"  he  had  asked  of  Mrs.   Ward  that  night 
Knowing  that  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  had  been  ex- 
periencing  new   sensations,    knowing,    too,    that  it 


250 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


would  raise  her  in  his  estimation  to  praise  another 
woman,  Mrs.  Ward  lauded  Madeline  Connor  to 
the  skies. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her?"  she  countered. 

Hebden  ran  his  fingers  over  the  keyboard  of  the 
piano,  evoking  a  melody  of  luscious  notes. 

"Pure  as  frost sting  in  it,"  he  mur- 
mured.    "A  soul asleep!  ....  form  divine 

lacking  the  fire  divine  I  .  .  .  dreams  of  sky 

palaces,  whose  earthly  youth  will  pass  unrealized! 
...  a  queen  without  a  crown,  ....  because  .... 
because  she  will  not  dare!" 

And  he  broke  into  passionate,  powerful,  full- 
toned  singing  of  the  /    ib  love-song: 


"From   the   desert   I   come  to  thee, 

On  a  stallion  shod  with  fire; 
And  the  winds  are  left  behind 

In  the  speed  of  my  desire. 
Under  thy  window  I  stand, 

And  the  midnight  hears  my  cry: 
I  love  thee,  I  love  but  thee, 

With   a  love   that  shall   not  die 
Till  the  sun   grows  cold, 
And  the  stars  are  old. 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment 

Book  unfold!" 


The  notes  quivered  into  an  ecstasy;  and  when 
he  turned  to  Mrs.  Ward  her  lips  were  as  pallid  as 
her  forehead. 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE     251 

Meanwhile,  Budd  McGee,  the  ragged  boy,  who 
was  Madeline  Connor's  model,  found  himself  in 
gaol  for  theft.  Madeline  appealed  to  Mrs.  Ward. 
Mrs.  Ward  appealed  to  Hebden;  and  Hebden— 
in  his  own  words — "bailed  the  brat  out!"  There- 
after the  sittings  for  the  portrait  passed  more  pleas- 
antly. Madeline  expressed  her  gratitude  and  Heb- 
den called  Budd  his  "mascot."  Hebden  no  longer 
looked  for  what  did  not  exist;  and  Madeline  no 
longer  parried  guard. 

"Do  you  know,  you  are  unlike  any  other  woman 
in  all  the  world;  but  you  give  work  altogether  too 
high  a  place  in  life,   Miss  Connor?"  he  idly  re- 
marked one  day. 
"I  pLce  it  first." 

"It  isn't  first!"  He  wanted  her  to  ask  vihat  was 
first;  but,  as  she  didn't,  he  added,  "Don't  you  think 
love  should  be  given  first  rank?" 

Madeline  Connor  thoughtfully  balanced  a  paint- 
brush on  her  forefinger. 

"I've  thought  of  thatl  Of  course,  love  is  first; 
....  as  an  inspiration;  ....  as  a  dream!  But,  how 
are  you  to  give  lovj  form,  to  prove  it,  to  make  your 
ideal  real,  your  dream  a  fact  ....  unless  you  put 
It  into  plain,  everyday  living  .  .  .  into  your  work? 
No  use  heaving  a  volcano  of  sighs,  Mr.  Hebden," 
she  laughed.  "Anyone  can  do  that!  The  most 
sentimental  people  I  have  ever  known  have  been 
the  most  selfish,  the  cruelest  to  the  persons  loved! 
■  .  .  .  What's  the  use  of  words?  ....  Word  love 
IS  .  .  .  cheap!     Did  you  ever  think  how  the  way 


Iir 


252 


THE    NFAV    DAWN 


to  almost  every  wrong  is  paved  either  by  words 
of  love  or  religion?  Lovers'  words  were  all  used 
up  by  forgers  long  ago.  Anybody  can  roll  up  the 
whites  of  their  eyes  at  the  inoonl  It  takes  work — 
something  done — to  prove  love  I  .  .  .  Passive  love 
always  reminds  me  of  a  stagnant  pool.  ...  It  grows 
swcmpy  unless  it  does  something — carves  a  way 
through  rocks  to  the  sea,  for  instance,"  she  fin- 
ished flushing. 

"Ho-ho,"  thought  I  Icbden,  "so  that  is  the  way 
the  wind  lies !  The  form  divine  with  the  fire  all 
ready  for — the  conflagration  I"  At  the  same  time, 
it  amused  him  to  find  it  possible  to  be  talking  of 
love  so  impersonally  with  a  woman. 

"Do  you  not  set  any  store  in  the  avowal  of  love 
by  words?"  he  asked.  He  had  a  firm  and  proved 
conviction  that  all  women  that  he  had  known  could 
never  hear  an  avowal  of  love  too  often. 

The  artist  took  refuge  behind  the  easel. 

"If  I  were  prevented,"  he  went  on,  "prevented 
telling  one  whom  I  loved  the  great  truth  of  her  life 
and  mine,  I  should  feel  terribly  wronged!" 

"That  need  not  prevent  you  living  the  fact!" 

"But  it  might  prevent  me  from  knowing  whether 
she  loved  me " 

"But  no,"  laughed  Madeline,  "you  couldn't  either 
of  you  possibly  conceal  it  from  the  othv.r!" 

Going  out  that  day  he  had  shaken  his  head  dis- 
approvingly, saying  "Work!  Work!"  As  he  turned 
down  the  stairs  of  the  studio  he  raised  his  hat  laugh- 
ing: "The  rose  should  be  regal,  above  toil!     Con- 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE     253 

sider  the  lilies  of  the  field:  they  toil  not,  neither  do 
they  spin  I 

^^^jConsider  the  ant,  thou  sluggard,"  she  laughed 

"Confound  her!  She's  sweet  in  spite  of  herself," 
he  mused. 

"Is  there  something  to  that  man  after  all?  Have 
I  been  fair  to  him?"  Madeline  asked  herself. 

To  argue  sincerity  is  to  accuse  it.  Sincerity  held 
in  doubt  .s  like  chemicals  in  solution— of  diluted 
quality,  incalculable  quantity;  only  to  be  determined 
by  the  test. 

As   Hebden   thought  over   the   girl   he   became 
piqued.     What  right  had  she  to  be  so  indifferent' 
She  played  the  part  of  a  comrade  quite  as  if  she 
had  a  right  to  it.     But  that  morning  after  his  drive 
along  the  sea  he  recollected  with  a  pleasurable  an- 
ticpation  that  this  was  the  day  of  his  sitting  for  the 
portrait.     It  was  with  regret  that  he  remembered 
this  was  the  last  sitting.     The  scene  of  last  night 
could  never  have  been  enacted— he  thought— with 
one  like  Madeline  Connor.    Why  was  it  some  wom- 
en   turned    men    into    blockheads;    others    gave    a 
sense  of  uplift?     How  had  that  girl  called  up  all 
one  might  have  been  and  transmuted  it  into  what 
one  might  some  day  become!     It  occurred  to  Heb- 
den that,  if  his  mother  had  not  such  absurdly  grand 
schemes  of  a  match  for  him,  a  woman  like  Made- 
line—in  a  higher  station  of  life,  of  course— might 
make  a  good  thing  out  of  a  man's  life;  not  to  men- 


ai4 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


tion  considerations  that  made  possession  of  her  a 
very  good  thing  for  the  man. 

He  was  very  silent  at  that  last  sitting.  He  was 
a  little  frightened  at  the  pass  to  which  things  had 
drifted  the  night  before.  Frightened  at  himself; 
for  he  was  honest  enough  to  know  that  he  could 
not  always  depend  on  stopping  where  he  wanted. 
In  that  respect  Mr.  Dorval  Hcbden  was  wise  in 
his  generation;  for  it  meant  that  he  knew  the  weak- 
ness within  likelier  to  defeat  than  the  influence 
without.  Madeline  Connor,  too,  was  silent,  painting 
in  swift,  deft  strokes;  a  touch  here  of  more  world- 
wear  for  the  brow;  a  shading  about  the  mouth  for 
something  that  was  neither  mirth  nor  thought — 
Madeline  did  not  know  what  it  was,  her  experience 
did  not  afford  her  data  for  tabulating  and  translat- 
ing that  look.  She  only  knew  she  must  put  it  in,  a 
weakness  and  something  more;  a  smile  that  was 
scarcely  familiarity,  yet  like  it — and  she  put  it  in 
to  have  the  portrait  like  the  man.  It  was  the  same 
with  the  weak,   slightly  heavy,   receding,   hard-set 

chin. 

"There,"  she  said,  "it's  all  but  finished  1  I'll  do 
the  rest  from  memory!" 

She  rose,  dusting  off  her  hands  and  putting  the 
brushes  to  soak.  Hebden  scarcely  looked  at  the 
picture. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  bluntly,  "you  have  had 
a  curiously  contradictory  effect  on  me?  I  came  here 
feeling   a    hang-dog   of   a    fellow  1      Though    you 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE      255 
h^aven't  said  one  word,  you've  made  me  feel  bet- 

He  had  so  far  grown  in  knowledge  of  Madeline 
Connor  that  he  no  longer  studied  the  effects  of  his 
words  on  her  face.  He  could  be  quite  sure  that  the 
effects  would  come  out  in  speech. 

"You've  always  given  me  the  feeling,"  he  went 
on,  of  a  north  wind— pure  as  frost— rather  twisty, 
tw.rly  the  way  you  hit  a  fellow,  disagreeable  as 
frost,  sometimes,  too,  but  like  a  breath  of  pure  cold 
air  I  We've  been  silent  to-day;  but  it  has  drawn 
us  nearer  than  much  talk.  Did  you  ever  realize, 
Madeline,  that  a  .veak  woman  can  do  a  fellow  more 
harm  than  a  wicked  one?  A  pliant  woman  is  just 
about  as  reliable  as  a  rope  of  sand  when  a  fellow 
wants  a  life  love.     Do  you  know  what  I  mean?" 

"I'm  not  sure  but  I  do,"  answered  Madeline, 
ihe  had  a  curious  sensation  that,  while  he  seemed 
to  be  voicing  her  own  thoughts,  each  argument  was 
a  false  closing  in  on  her  inner  guard,  fencing  for 
a  weakness;  yet  the  suspicion  was  so  unjustifiable. 
He  began  a  furious  search  under  camp  stools, 
easels  and  art  magazines  for  his  gloves. 

"They  say  it  is  a  sign  of  friendship  when  people 
can  be  together  without  talking,"  said  Madeline. 

"Then  I  hope  this  may  be  the  beginning  of  a 
long  friendship  with  us,"  promptly  responded  Heb- 
den,  looking  into  her  eyes  without  the  slightest  ex- 
pectation of  the  meaning  glances  that  he  so  often 
read. 

"She  could  make  a  new  man  of  me,"  he  thought, 


256 


THE    NKW    DAWN 


with  a  sudden  rush  of  light  to  the  lusterlcss  brown 
eyes.  Going  down  the  stairs  he  paused  to  look 
back.  She  was  standing  in  the  sunlight  critically 
studying  his  own  portrait,  the  strands  of  her  hair 
shot  with  sun  tints,  the  hectic  color  flushing  and 
waning,  the  eyes  pure,  steady,  true,  gazing  into  the 
face  of  the  painting  as  if  they  would  draw  out  its 
inmost  thoughts. 

Hebden  smiled  softly  to  himself  and  went  step- 
ping down  the  stairs,  debonair,  nonchalant,  satisfied; 
forgetful  of  the  Fast;  amused  at  the  Present; 
pleased,  well  pleased,  with  the  promise  of  the  Fu- 
ture. 

****** 

Madeline  sat  thinking  .  .  .  thinking!  The  light 
sifted  through  the  crimson  lamp  shade  of  the  little 
cottage  sitting-room  in  a  warm  glow.  The  faces  of 
the  old  family  portraits  stood  out  from  the  shadows 
of  the  wall  watchfully;  and  still  Madeline  sat  in  the 
red  light  at  the  little  rosewood  table,  thinking!  .\ 
small  medallion  set  with  jewels  lay  in  the  palm  of 
her  hand;  and  open  letters  littererl  the  table.  Let- 
ters about  work:  notes  from  women  who  paid  a 
thousand  dollars  for  a  gown  and  offered  fifty  dol- 
lars for  a  portrait  with  the  proviso  "that,  if  it  did 
not  suit,  it  wouH  be  returned";  requests  from  char- 
ity for  a  loan  of  old  prints  and  miniatures,  with  as- 
surances that  the  exhibition  would  be  an  advertise- 
ment that  would  repay  any  artist.  These  letters 
Madeline  ignored.  They  came  periodically  and  in 
quantities.    Then,  there  was  Mrs.  Hebden's  letter— 


TO  RECOVER  A  CONSCIENCE      257 

stiff,  formal,  guardedly  polite,  written  in  the  third 
person,  beggmg  Miss  Connor  to  accept  a  check  as 
a  token  of  appreciation  for  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Heb- 
den      The  price  of  the  picture  had  already  been 

rose  n  rebellion  aga.nst  the  tone  of  this  other  worn- 

!      J,^".'  '  '""'='■  ""'^^  -"""-^y:  »o  she  an- 
swer^d^sfffly,  forn,ally,  guardedly  polite,  accepting 

But  none  of  these  letters  kept  her  pondering.  She 
held  another  m  her  right  hand,  while  the  medallion 

Z  '"  ;■■  ['■'■  u^^'"'  ^'^  ""^"^^  ''^Sht  of  her  face" 
red  and  wh.te  by  turns  in  the  pier  glass,  and  back 
came  the  words_"A  rose  regal  above  toil!"     Why 
d,d  th.sman  seem  to  throw  her  thoughts  in  on  her- 
self?    Were  there  some  men  who  would  do  that  to 
such  an  extent  they  would  destroy  a  woman's  per- 
spective, turn  her  into  the  vampire  egotist?     She 
looked  at  the  jeweled  miniature.     It  was  a  Cupid 
w,th  bandaged  eyes,  bent  bow,  and  flesh  pink  as  a 
shell.     Ihe  sunhght  about  him  was  quivering  with 
•  h'/m  ^v  "  ■"?  T  ''""'y     '"^  'y''  fhat  caress; 
dallion  '  ''"^""^  °''"  '^'  ■*'"■''''*  '"*• 

"I  wonder,"  she  asked  falteringly,  "have-I  been 

— unjust? 

And  if  the  little  Cupid  winked  under  the  bandage 
across  his  eyes,  Madeline  did  not  know.  The  alter 
cRo  that  speaks  loudest  afterward  did  not  lift  ud 
■ts  voice  and  tell  her  she  was  becoming  more  than  in 
terested,  where  she  did  not  trust.     Perhaps  it  was 


«s« 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


because  she  was  more  than  interested  that  she  did 
not  trust.  Something  stirred  the  slumber  of  her 
life.  Was  it  the  man's  appeal,  his  need  to  be 
helped?  Madeline  cuuld  not  tell.  She  shrank  from 
drawing  aside  the  drapery  of  her  reserve.  It  was 
a  curious  letter,  not  downright,  not  outright. 

"I  hardly  dare  acknowIedRC  how  much  I  build  on  what 
you  said  about  it  being  impossible  for  either  to  conceal  from 
the  other  what  each  feels.  You  place  so  little  store  by 
words,  and  so  much  by  work,  won't  you  accept  this  as  a 
token  of  the  inexpressible? 

"They  say  it  is  not  bad  as  a  piece  of  work,  supRcsts  so 
much;  but  of  that  you  are  a  better  judge  than  I.  1  picked 
it  up  in  Rome,  and  send  it  to  suggest — well — much. 

"D.    H." 

She  read  and  reread  the  words  and  felt  like  one 
trying  to  follow  the  threads  of  a  maze.  "How  much 
1  build,"  "what  each  feels,"  "a  token  of  the  inex- 
pressible." These  phrases  might  mean  so  much: 
and  yet  they  expressed  nothing.  If  she  refused  to 
accept  the  gift,  would  not  that  imply  too  much?  If 
she  accepted,  what  would  be  inferred?  And  so 
Madeline  sat  thinking,  in  a  tangle  not  of  her  own 
making,  in  an  ambush  that  might  conceal  pain  or 
delight. 

"When  in  doubt,  don't,"  she  mused.  "I'll  not 
answer  at  all.  I'll  thank  him  when  I  see  him  at 
Mrs.  Ward's  reception." 


CHAPTKR    XIX 

TO  STRENGTH  AND  WILL-ADD  PURPOSE 

the    tram  Of  the  Great  Consolidated',  widening  ven- 

Seated  lor'  T"  "T '  "'  '""^  ^"""P-y  '^'"1  ^ccn 
luTto  f^"'"   '^^'   ""^"''^'^   '»   »hc    billion,. 

Ju,t  to  coun  up  to  the  figure  that  was  to  be  the 
enlarged  cap.tal  of  the  Great  Consolidated  for  the 
capture  of  the  world's  trade  would  have  taken  an 
accountant  the  better  part  of  a  week 

"as^r  half  ;*"°""  ""'•  °^  ^°""'=' »"--  -°« 

gas  than  ba  last  more  water  than  cargo;  but  not 
bemg  a   ph,losoph,.ing  animal   the  public  did  not 

VVhat  the  publ.c  cared  for  was  the  widely  noised 
and  no.,,ly  proclaimed  fact  that,  just  before  the  in 

Zr  T^^^r  ^""-"^^'^'^•»  "Pital.  the  com- 
pany had  declared  an  enormou,  dividend.  That  the 
dmdend  was  enormous  owing  to  an  increase  in  the 
pn  e  of  coal  and  ocean  freight  rate,  did  not  come 
to  the  notice  of  the  public. 

rional^"!  f  "f ''"K  "^^y^Papers  printed  some  sensa- 

onai  f,,t,  ,bout  the  increase  of  poverty  being  in 

"riking  proparfon  to  the  increase  of  wealth;  but, 

Mr.  Saunders  paid  a  visit  to  the  editors  of  these 

»S9 


i6o 


THE    NF.W    DAWN 


sheets.  He  may  have  paid  more  than  a  visit,  for 
the  struggling  newspapers  became  forthwith  pros- 
perous, went  on  their  way  rejoicing,  and,  being  them- 
selves happy,  ceased  to  take  a  pest-'iiistic  view  of 
Ward's  finance.  They  extolled  his  methoils  as  likely 
to  levy  tribute  on  the  gold  of  foreign  nations  for 
the  benefit  of  the  .-Xmerican  workingman  by  captur- 
ing the  carrying  trade  of  the  ocean.  That  was  it. 
It  was  a  good  argument,  and  pleased  everybody. 

Yet,  the  secretary's  health  was  in  inverse  ratio  to 
the  prosperity  r>f  the  company.  If  a  door  banged, 
Saunders  jumped,  whitened  to  the  lips,  lost  his 
breath.  When  a  footfall  sounded,  Saunders  glanced 
furtively  round  with  the  look  of  a  weasel.  He  had 
developed  the  most  absurd  fear  of  being  alone.  A 
blackness,  thick,  impenetrable,  hard,  tight  as  an 
iron  cap,  seemed  to  grip  his  head.  The  thoughts 
raced  ....  raced  ....  raced  through  the  black- 
ness; always  in  the  form  of  a  shadow,  a  vague- 
shadow  coursing  at  his  heels,  shapeless,  gashed, 
blood-boltered,  a  fury  invisible,  fleet  as  wind, 
winged  with  torture. 

Sometimes,  he  would  sec  himself  a  double  per- 
sonality; the  white-faced,  black-bearded,  stooping 
man,  running  like  a  deer  before  hounds  from  the 
shadow  behind;  a  laughing  demon  of  mockery  sitting 
apart,  hooting,  jeering,  taunting  that  other  fool 
down  there,  fleeing  from  his  own  shadow. 

At  other  times  the  darkness  rolled  up,  a  huge, 
black,  irresistible,  tidal  wave,  washing  out  memory, 
present  interests,  future  hope,  leaving  in  place  only 


Anil  Ihcii  in  a  ll:ish  ramu  llu-  ,„|,| 


i'"s.ili.iM  lh,,t  she 


■NIL'  «;ilrl„,l 


ADD  PURPOSE  26, 

Pierced' th^  tT7J""[^  ■  '"  '^'  '^^'••'""''  ^here 
P-erced  the  back  of  his  brain  a  stab  like  the  teeth 

Id  t'oTr^  '"u^"^'^  ^''"^  ^°  ^-k  life  ou  .     He 

-be...ethan;h;^HeK,f,;te^---'^ 
cynicallv  .^  t""«,  Saunders  laughed  hilariously  and 

nfLi:-t^;,-ard.^lhf;a;>" 

only  ,..,„,  the  effects  dr  ^'FTan^ho     '  T 
the  drink  and  the  drugs  he  felt  fit  f      v)  J'' 

positive  certainty  that  ^ter    nfa^  ad  ^hf s'ar': 
old  secrets  about  his  life  al  he,  Saund    s   had    but' 
he  found  that  he  must  double  doses  each  week  to 
obtain  the  same  results,  and  the  heavier  thldoses 

of  beinfnl  ^'  t""^  ^'■''^"''''^  '"^'^  -  ^b-^J  fear 
of  being  alone,  he  was  in  agony  among  people    Thev 

huTb    tlT  '""T"'  "°'  ''"-'y  t^idldlhe 
tnumb     made  remarks,  and  looked  at  him      Wh.n 

d:  zzv^'r '':  '^^''"^  ^^  ^^^  do"s  migh 

church  T"^  '°,  ^°''8«  h™«elf  among  people- 

church  workers,   club   friends,   his   family ;   but  his 
manner  was  something  too  urbane,  for  a    hou  de 
Jppmg  clerical   had   accosted  him   with   a   n  .v  .' 
shattering  thump  on  the  shoulder- 

Mr.  Saunders!     Mr.  Saunders!     You  are  be- 


262 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


coming  so  jocose  we  hardly  know  youl  What  is  the 
matter?" 

Matter?  What  right  had  that  blockhead  of  a 
parson  to  think  anything  was  the  matter? 

And  down  in  the  Board  of  Trade  he  had  over- 
heard a  young  broker  saying:  "You  look  out  for 
Saunders!  He's  a  bit  too  urbane  these  days  I  Some- 
thing wrong!" 

But,  it  remained  for  his  wife  to  deal  the  worst 
home  stab.  She  had  put  her  arms  round  his  neck 
and  asked  outright:     "What — is — wrong?" 

Wrong?  What  right  had  the  simpleton  to  think 
anything  was  wrong?  What  was  the  matter  with 
people,  anyway?  He  hated  her  with  a  sudden 
cruelty  for  her  innocence,  for  her  questioning,  for 
her  tenderness,  for  her  nearness.  That  night,  when 
he  had  made  up  with  his  wife  over  the  dinner  table, 
he  had  been  filled  with  such  tender  pity  for  him- 
self— such  tender,  overwhelming  self-pity — that  he 
had  withdrawn  to  his  own  room  to  weep  like  a 
woman,  pretending  all  the  while  he  was  ill.  The 
next  morning,  when  he  thought  of  the  excuses  that 
he  had  given  his  wife,  he  went  down  the  street  with 
a  smile  wreathed  in  his  beard,  and  a  flower  in  his 
button  hole. 

He  had  reached  the  office  early,  for  his  sl<;cp  had 
been  bad,  even  with  drugs.  A  gnawing  had  worked 
at  the  base  of  his  brain  till  daylight,  and  when  he 
rose  every  separate  nerve  in  the  palms  of  hit  hands 
was  jumping;  every  object — window,  mirror,  rocker, 
the  garden  outside — jumping  too,  rimmed  with  red. 


"^  '^i/t  '  '»w^ '  r* 


ADD   PURPOSE 


263 


invested  m  a  reddish  mist.  A  cold  plunge  in  the 
sw.n,m,ng  tank  dispelled  these  night  fumes,  and 
Obadiah  went  down  to  his  offices  smiling  scornfully 
at  the  pat  assumption  of  the  world  in  general  that 
thmgs  were  right.  Budd,  the  office  boy,  had  already 
swept  the  room,  and  was  humming  with  happiness. 
Uon  t  grate  your  duster  over  the  felt  of  that 
screen      gntted  the  secretary  to  the  boy. 

H«t  nrVu','"°"'"S  P'P"  °"  Mr.  Saunders- 
desk.  Obad,ah  lubricated  his  palms  with  a  great 
show  of  glee,  nghted  his  button-hole  flower  and 
licked  his  lips. 

"And  how  do  you  find  yourself  this  fine  morning, 
my  boy.-     said  he.  * 

''I  dunnu  ■'  mumbled  Budd  sulkily,  tipping  the 
conten,  of  the  waste-paper  basket  into  a  bag  ^"He 
a.nt  r..l,n'  that  paper  no  more'n  1  am  •' '  solilo- 
qui.ed  the  Kv      'That  paper's  upside  down  '" 

It  did  not  matt.r  whether  the  paper  were  upside 
down  o,  „ght  s,<k  .p,  for  Saunders  had  come  to 
the  stage  where  he  a»M  read  .  line  twice  without 
Knowing  a  word.  He  told  himself  it  was  the  drug. 
Budd  continued  dusting  sulkily,  with  sickening  mem- 

he  labor  deegate.      Th.  secretary   heaved   a   sigh 

lide  u7.'  ""'"'■•'  '"'^  ''''""^  '^'  P'P''  "Kht 

Suddenly,  a  low  gasp  broke  from  the  secretary', 

desk,  and  Budd  glanced  through  the  half-closed  Soor 

0  see  the  man  sink  forward  over  the  paper  with 
rcd-nmmed,  staring  eyes,  and  bloodless,  muttering 


264 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


lips  from  which  no  word  escaped.  The  boy  seized 
one  of  the  papers  in  the  outer  office  and  scanned 
the  headings.  There  was  the  war  ....  That  was 
not  it!  .  .  There  was  news  of  the  impending 

strike  .  .  \or  was  that  it!  .  .  Ah  .  .  .  here! 
Body  of  Cnltnown  Man  Found  by  Labor  Leader 
McGee — Inquest  P(jstponed  for  a  Week ! 

Barely  had  Build  thrown  the  paper  down  when 
the  secretary  glided  from  his  desk  to  the  safetv 
vault,  opened  the  combination  noiselessly  with 
trembling  fingers,  pulled  out  a  file  of  type-written 
reports  and  tore  one  sheet  to  atoins 

"Here,  boy— l...-k  alive!  Hold  on,  here!  Put 
these  other  scraps  in  your  bag!  Have  them  burnt 
by  the  furnace  man,  to-da> — you  know— right  now! 
Go — and  don't  make  a  noise!" 

"Yes,  siree,"  mumbled  Budd,  scuddling  through 
the  hall  to  the  basement  stairs.  "Yum — yum — 
yum !" 

Sitting  in  the  half  dark  of  the  furnace  room  on 
a  coal  scuttle  was — not  the  fireman — but  Sam  Mc- 
Gee, labor  delegate,  picking  his  teeth  with  his  jack- 
kni  f  e. 

"It's — all — tored— up!"  regretted  Budd.  "It 
ain't  plain  like  you  wanted,  but  I  guess  you  can 
patch  them  little  bits,"  and  he  turned  the  bagful  out 
on  the  floor. 

Sam  McGee,  labor  delegate,  carefully  sorted  the 
waste  paper,  picking  out  certain  scraps.  "This  is 
the  one  we  want,  sonny!  It's  signed  'Kipp,'  ton! 
I  guess  we've  got  all  we  want,  now!     The  inquest 


^fie  "Vim .V -i  r i¥ 


ADD   PURPOSE  26s 

can  go  on    and  so  can  the  strike!     Don't  forget  to 
waken  the  hreman  from  his  booze  in  time  for  wtk 

Here    chuck  the  rest  m  the  fire!     Now,   run  back 
and  keep  your  eyes  open  an,l  your  mouth  .hut!"       ' 

ders   irriMhl  ''"'■"  '^^  '"'P''"  '^^'"^"^'-'J  ^aun- 
ders    ir  tably,  as  Budd  reentered  the  office 

d.dn  t  burn  'em,  but  1  put  'em  in  the  Hn  ,'  re- 
phed  the  boy,  w,th  his  eyes  very  wide,  Indeed 

Don  t  stand  there   ....   loitering-you   Uttle 

ev,  your-  ordered  the  secn.ary.     ■■Lp^rawl  , 

X'ufet  across  the  carpet!     (io  to  your  work!" 

«udd  s  jaws  opened  wide  as  well  as  his  eyes.     He 

d.d  not  understa„d  that  laudable  precept-when  you 

are m  the  wrong,  hit  first!  ^ 

"Budd — come  here!" 

As  Budd  went  trotting  into  the  secretary's  room 
the  am.able  Mr.  Saunders  .heeled  in  his  chair  Jth 
eyes  snapping. 

"On,  report  is  missing  from  the  vault!     Don't 

''.' r '~"."  V°"''  ^^"  ""'  y°"  ^'d-'t  take  it"'' 
ijee  whiz ! 

Budd  opened  and  shut  his  mouth  twice.     He  had 
promised  M.ss   Connor  not  to  use  certain  "^rds 
He  missed  them,  now. 

Oba?,! '  '""'^  ''  T  '"I  "'•'"  ^°"^  °f  ^"'"  '"  ^"^^I'^J 
'JDadiah,  snappinir  h  s  finwers     "v«    1  , 

that  renort  I     V       1        ^  "  ^""'''  ^o"  t""'' 

Don'    tell  ^"rj°''  -"'^'^id  it  by  mistake ! 

iJon  t  tell  me  you  didn  t! 

'"  slow,  deliberate,  petrified  fashion. 


266 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Mister  Saunders !  You  great  big !— downright  I 
— sneakin'  1— (ib — story-telling— liar— that  you  are! 
You  took  thai  report,  yourself,  and  tore  it  up  I  You 
know  you  did!  I  saw  you!  And  it  was  about— 
th — th — ih — "  he  stammered,  "that  Mister  Kipp!" 
The  words  came  shaking  out  of  him  like  marbles 
from  a  bag;  for  yith  one  tigerish  pounce  the  secre- 
tary sprang  across  the  floor,  clutched  his  long,  thin, 
crooked,  yellow  fingers  round  the  boy's  throat  as  if 
to  choke  the  name  back,  and  shook  till  the  child 
sputtered. 

"Take  y'r  greasy  nails  out  o'  my  neck,  or  I'll — 
P— P — pick  y'r  eyes  out!"  shrilled  the  urchin. 

"O — o — oh!"  gritted  the  conlidential  man  in  a 
voice  that  resembled  the  hiss  uf  steam  from  a  kettle, 
"o— o — oh  ! — you  littls;  ....  you  little  ....  I've 
a  min'  to  .  .  .  shake  every  tooth  down  your  throat!" 
But  Budd  had  learned  a  gutter  trick  or  two  th.-. 
prevented  the  conlidential  gentleman  from  carryi,  -r 
out  those  amiable  intentions.  With  one  squirm  the 
boy  drew  his  right  leg  back  and  planted  a  kick  with 
firm  impact  and  great  precision  squarely  on  the  sec- 
retary's stomach.  With  another  squirm  he  butted 
head  foremost  into  the  soft  vesture  of  the  same 
collapsed  organ.  The  man  doubled  forward  like 
a  folding  camp  stool,  with  both  arms  round  his 
waist,  both  eyes  red-rimmed  and  snapping.  Budd 
fell  back,  prancing  like  a  fighting  chicken. 

"Think  you'll  do  me  the  way  you  murdered  Mr. 
Kipp!"  he  screamed,  forgetful  that  while  his  eyes 
were  to  be  open  his  mouth  was  to  be  shut.     "Think 


ADD  PURPOSE  2^7 

you'll  pitch   me   down   a   hole   alive   th. 

throwed  Mister  KioDl"     R.L       i  .      I  ^"^  >'°" 
^iti    i\ippi        Hantam-like  he   orann-A 
round  ,„j  ^^^  ^^^  revolving 'person 

Ta  1     he   h  H        '  'V'''  '''y  °^  =■"  f''^  fighting  cat" 

tor  the  basement  stairs. 

"Pshaw,   Budd!  .  .   .   He's  snr^.l      '  .... 

Hes  scared  o'  you!     That's  what  he  is!     Goon 
back   to   your   work,    kiddie!      Keep   him   scared 
^^^eli  g,ve  „m  hydroph'y,  kiddie-thafs  what,  my 

*  *  * 

nerv!  •^'^r^T"^ '^"'^ '"  ^'■' ^hair,  numb.   Every 
TL:      :£—/^'''^  hands  began  stinging  tl 

eered  lit-  ■  "■""'"  '''='"'•   '^^'""J.  stag- 

gered  hke  a  man.ac  through  a  reddish  mist      The 
mornmg  ,,ght,    .-hich   but    a    moment   before   had 
oded  the  room  in  a  sunburst,  grew  dark         '' 
dark  red  .  .  .  giowmg  like  angry  fire.     The  iron 


368 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


cap  tightened  ....  tightened  till  he  thought  his 
brain  would  burn  with  anguish.  Clammy  sweat 
oozed  from  his  forehead.  He  sat  clasping  and  un- 
clasping the  long,  thin,  crook't,  yellow  fingers. 

"I'll  see  .  .  .  I'll  go  ...  .  and  see  ...  .  Mrs. 
Kipp  ....  a:-    jt  that  fool  engineer's  pay!" 

It  is  to  bf  observed  that  never  at  any  moment, 
never  for  ti'  fraction  of  nny  moment,  did  Mr. 
Obadiah  Saunders  blame  self.  He  was  the  victim 
of  circumstances.  That  was  it.  Saunders'  morality 
of  the  judicious  ambidexterity  credited  self  with  all 
the  good  that  he  did;  God  and  circumstances  with 
all  the  evil.  His  remorse  was  fear,  not  regret. 
Drawing  out  a  little  white  tube  resembling  c.unphor 
flakes  from  an  inner  pocket,  he  put  it  to  his  lips, 
bit  off  a  flake,  and  begin  chewing  voraciously. 
Thereafter,  Mr.  Saunders  felt  better.  Budd  slunk 
about  the  office  like  a  puppy  dog  spoiling  for  a  fight. 


There  was  nothing  of  the  felted,  feline  tread 
to  the  heavy  footstep  of  Sam  McGee,  labor  leader. 
The  step  of  the  big,  dominant,  dogged  delegate  rang 
out  loud  and  sharp,  true  and  sure,  as  the  hammer 
of  Thor.  It  was  a  footstep  marching  straight  to  the 
goal,  not  wriggling  round.  It  might  crush  with  the 
sheer  cruelty  of  power.  It  would  never  crush  wit; 
the  cruelty  of  cunning,  like  the  snaKe  that  winds  a 
victim  helpless.  And,  to-day,  the  ponderous  foot- 
step lifted  with  the  elastic  buoyancy  of  an  assured 
hope. 

Sam  McGee  at  last  hail  firm  hold  of  the  ham- 


ADD  PURPOSE 


269 


mer  of  power  that  was  to  smash,  scrunch,  pulveri/e 
beat  .nto  dust  all  the  plans  of  capital  aguL  labor' 
Capital  was  no  longer  to  be  ayai,n,  labor.  Hi, 
hammer  was  to  weld  these  two  forces-capital  and 
labor— m  one  homogeneous,  relentless,  resistless, 
onward-movmg  I'owerl  Sam  McGee  was  going  to 
compel  capital  to  amalgamate  with  labor  on  equal 
shares,  equal  ..  -ofits,  equal  privileges. 

Like  a  lion  awakening,  Demos— the  mob— was  to 
arise  .  .  .  to  arise  from  the  long  night  of  the 
centuries    darkness,  the  centuries'  slaxery  and  serf- 

Z?.'  ■   ■/  V"^  '"'^   ^^^'^  ^""'^  fhe  Skeleton 
Spectre   ct   a   Poverty,   cruel   and   grim   as   death! 

••  •  •  •  .  .  .   From  Cave-Men,   fear-haunted,    run- 

ning  through  the  jung-es,  the  pc<,plc,  the  ignorant, 

half-brute  people,  had  slowly  risen  from  slavery  to 

serfdom,    rom  serfdom  to  freedom,  from  freedom 

to  pditical  power!  .  .  .  .  And,  now,  McGee  dreamed 

01    Uemos    marching    majestically    on  .  .      equ-^i 

shares;     equal     profits;     equal     privileges! 

.No  more  Skeleton  Spectre  of  Want  looking  out  from 

the  shadows,  envious-eyed,  on  the  Feast!  No 

more  anxious  fright  tossing  restlessly  on   sleepless 

pillows!   ...   No   more   fear   of   want  .  .  .   drair- 

ging  men   down  to  the  brute  greed  of  dishonesty 

•  •  •   .  women  to  the  lewdness  of  sin  !   .  In  the 

earth  was  food  .  food  enough,  and  more  than 

enough,  for  all  children  of  men!     Why,  then,  did 

men  and  women  barter  souls  for  gold>     What  an 

swer  the  labor  delegate,  with  his  fanatical  eyes,  gave 

to  this  wild  questioning  we  know. 


170 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Once,  when  an  anxmic  and  somewhat  emotional 
little  man,  who  thought  himself  a  reformer,  when 
he  was  only  a  bubble  on  the  tide,  asked  the  president 
of  the  Great  Consolidated  that  question,  the  big 
man  bounced  round  his  revolving  chair  in  a  fashion 
that  set  the  little  man's  heart  thumping. 

"Want  to  know?"  demanded  Ward,  rolling  his 
cigar  along  his  teeth,  "want  to  know  tvhy  there 
are  so  many  failures  and  slugs  oo7,ing  on  the  under- 
side of  the  board?  Well,  I'll  tell  you!  ...  . 
Lazy  lubbers  won't  get  a  move  on  and  won't  lift  a 
leg  to  climb  out  of  the  ditch  I  That's  why;  and  I've 
been  there!  ....  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about!"  and  Ward  glanced  at  the  intruder,  who 
meekly  muttered  out  something  about  Ward  having 
such  strength  that  he  was  hardly  a  fair  criterion  for 
the  Weak.  "Strong?  .  .  .  Weak?"  snorted  Ward. 
"fVhy  are  they  Weak?  Tell  me  that!  ...  Be- 
cause they  don't  try  to  be  strong!  What  do  you 
think  makes  strength?  ....  It  is  struggling 
....  fighting;  gaining  an  inch;  fighting  for  two; 

gaining  two;  fighting  for  four Good-day 

to  you;  and  the  like  of  you  ....  I  have  no  time  to 
waste!  Porter,  show  this  fellow  out!  If  he  comes 
again,  throw  him  out!" 

McGee  slapped  the  document  which  he  had 
patched  together  down  in  the  Nickel  Plate  saloon, 
and  told  himself  that  he  had  a  hammer  he  was 
going  to  use  for  "all  it  was  worth!" 

The  elevator  cage  of  the  Rookery  Building  where 
Truesdale  had  his  offices,  was  at  the  top  floor  when 


ADD  PURPOSE  171 

McGee  entered  the  hall.  The  labor  leader  would 
not  wait.  He  went  bounding  up  the  stairs,  flight 
atter  flignt,  four  steps  at  a  time,  till  he  burst  in 
breathlessly  on  a  clerk  sitting  inside  the  railing  of 
the  outer  ofSce. 

"Boss  in,  sonny?" 

"What's  your  business?"  demanded  the  clerk,  who 
guarded  the  wicket,  presenting  a  writing  pad  for 
McGee's  name. 

"Ah— you  midget  I"  gruftly  laughed  the  big  labor 
leader.  "Guess  you'll  know  my  business  soon 
enough  1"  Stepping  over  the  railing  at  one  stride 
he  marched  unannounced  into  Truesdale's  office, 
where  he  shut  the  door  with  a  resounding  bang. 

"I'm  McGee,  the  I.  W.  \V.  delegate,"  he  blurted 
out;  but,  when  Truesdale  turned  quickly  and  pushed 
forward  a  chair  for  his  visitor,  McGee  found  jim- 
self  taking  off  his  hat. 

"I'm  glad  to  know  youl  From  what  I've  heard 
out  at  our  mines  I  think  I  ought  to  know  you  with- 
out  an  introduction,"  remarked  Truesdale  pleas- 
antly. Somehow,  the  manner  of  his  saying  it  dis- 
armed McGee.  "I'm  mighty  glad  to  have  a  good 
talk  with  you.  You  are  the  most  disinterested  labor 
organizer  I  have  ever  met.  You  are  free  of  graft, 
and  that's  more  than  most  of  us  can  say.  You  rec- 
ognize all  unions,  all  colors,  all  creeds— and  that 
is  at  least  a  Christ  ideal." 

"Why  don't  you  come  over  and  join  us?"  burst 
out  McGee,  sitting  down  and  spreading  out  his  feet, 
and  lighting  a  cigar. 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TBI   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2| 


1.0    [tE  i^ 

Hi  m     III  2.2 


^     APPLIED  IIVA^GE    Inc 


t65J   tost   Mom   51'eet 
Rochester.    Ne«    York  141 

(716)    *82  -  0300  -  Phone 
(716]   ;88-  5969  -  Fo. 


272 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Truesdale  shook  his  head.  "Tell  me,"  he  said, 
"are  you  really  I  Won't  Works;  or  are  you  the  In- 
dustrial Union  of  the  World— the  federation  of  all 
labor?" 

"We're  both,"  promptly  answered  McGee.  "We 
are  I  Won't  Works  unless  you  fellows  with  the 
plunk  hand  us  over  all  industry.  We  don't  blow 
you  up  with  dynamite.  That  is  foolish.  It  gives 
you  the  law  against  us.  We  just  fold  our  hands  and 
do  nothing,  as  you  rich  people  do;  and,  when  we 
induce  all  the  workers  of  the  world  to  fold  their 
hands  as  you  rich  people  do,  who  is  going  to  do  the 
job  for  you  fellows?  That's  the  Great  General 
Strike  we  are  working  for — the  great  world  revo- 
lution! You  bet  we  are  I  Won't  Works!  .Also, 
we  are  the  Industrial  Workers  of  the  World." 

And  that  is  why  you  insist  on  union — why  you 
have  induced  all  my  men  to  join  the  union — because 
our  men,  wh.o  would  work  apart  from  you,  might  be 
the  Judas  Iscariot  selling  the  salvation  of  labor  for 
a  purse  of  silver?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  McGee. 
"I  have  no  objection  to  that!"  said  Truesdale. 
"But  the  point,  sir,  is — we're  about  to  declare  a 
strike  in  the  G.  C.  mines  over  that  cut  in  wages!" 
"I'm  sure   I   have  no  objection  to  that,   either! 
There  was  no  reduction  in  our  wages!" 

McGee  laughed.  "Oh,  that's  all  right— long  as 
there's  no  trouble  in  your  mines  and  there  is  in 
Ward's,  you've  got  the  whip!  But,  the  point  is,  sir 
—before  we  order  on  the  strike  with  Ward's  miners 


ADD  PURPOSE  273 

we  want  you  "  McGee  rapped  sharply  wit',  his 
knuckles  on  fruesdale's  desk,  -wc  want  you-in 
cons,derat.on  of  the  fact  there  is  to  be  >,o  strike 
■n  your  mmes-we  want  you-to  r..„^,„~,  our 
umonl  We  have  to  have  as  great  a  solidarity  of 
abor  as  there  ,s  capital.  We  pay  our  men  who  go 
o  gaol  the  same  as  you  do.  They  are  servants  tf 
the  common  good.  We  must  have  your  men  ir.  our 
union! 

There  it  was  again,  like  the  ringing  of  a  tocsin, 
a  cry  to  arms,  the  old  battle  rally,  the  Armageddon 
Of   l,te—«    ,„„„   ,,,i,ij   ,„,,    ^^^^^^j   ^^^^^^^^_,      Q^   ^^^ 

great,  blmd  forces  marshaling  darkly  for  death 
grapple,  a  man  must  choose  sides-choose  sides 
or  be  crushed  between ! 

"I  do  recognize  your  union,"  answered  Truesdal. 
vaguely.  I  have  no  objection  to  every  man  in  the 
mmes  jommg  it!" 

w.'i'n ''"r  f"''  '^'  P°'"''  ''■"- "^  y^"  know  very 
Hell!  Before  ordenng  on  the  strike  in  the  Great 
Consol.dated  we  want  a  ffa.ranU;  from  ,on  that 
you  won  t  h,re  any  but  union  men!  That' you  are 
one  of  us!  And,  by  God,  I  know  from  your  face 
you  are!  What's  the  use  o'  pretending 'to  favo 
our  umon  .f  you  can  fire  all  our  men  and  hire  scabs' 
I  hat  makes  you  independent  of  us?" 
The   necessity  to   choose   sides,   choose   at  once 

olid  .  7'  °"  IT'^'^'-     ^  ^^^'  '^''"^'^  'he  Con: 
Ion.     th".^  bad  enough.     A  strike  in  his  mines 

along  with  the  fight-meant  ruin;  and,  for  what' 

i  ne  sake  of  a  pnnciple. 


274 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


He  scrawled  his  pen  absently  across  the  blotting 
sheet  on  his  desk  ....  A  tricky  man  might  have 
tricked  his  way  out  by  false  promises  to  both  sides. 
He  heard  the  ceaseless  rush  of  the  wires,  unseeing, 
unswerving,   impersonal   .   .   .   Force!     A  live   dog 
was  better  than  a  dead  man  .   .  .   if  he  went  down 
under  the  general  smash  what  good  would  lluit  do 
the  principle?     What   was   the   principle,   anyway, 
he   asked   himself,   half   cynically?      How   nakedly 
free  of  all  side  issues  life  could  shake  a  principle! 
.  .  .  Well  ...  let  us  seel   ..  .  He   had  refused 
to    be    coerced    into    joining    the    Great    Consoli- 
dated because  a-yreat-dcat-of-somethwg-for-a-great- 
deal-of-nothing  was  bad  business;  was,  in  fact,  an  in- 
terference with  the  Sacred  Right  to  Property;  in  a 
word,   was   theft!      That  was  principle,   the  first! 
Then,  he  had  held  aloof  from  this  union  business 
because  any  man's  Right  to  Work  was  as  sacred  as 
the  Right  to  Life!     That  was  principle,  the  second! 
The  labor  leader's  eyes  grew  larger,  darker,  as 
he  watched  Truesdale.    He  had  not  expected  oppo- 
sition in  this  quarter.     Never  mind,  in  that  docu- 
ment under  his  coat  he  had  the  hammer  that  would 
smash,  scrunch,  pulve/ize  opposition!     Like  Ward, 
McGee  stood  immutably  for  Force! 

The  wires  at  the  window  went  humming  with 
their  multitudinous  voices  of  power — the  power 
of  blind,  impersonal  Force!  The  ships  of  the 
ocean  front  rocked  with  the  cargoes  of  ten  thousand 
ports!  The  muffled  roar  of  the  street  came  up  like 
a  chant  from  the  World  of  Work  to  the  God  of 


ADD  PURPOSE  J 

oZT. :  ■  •  i,^;;;  --^  p-^'T'^  -  this  J,l 

right,  without  ir„;  "''™^'- •  \- •  ^'■^'^-^ 

out  soul  .  a    ";1'   '  ,'   ',  "'°"'  ^"•'""^'   ^'th- 

,)»,«  ;  •  •  •  a  B've-and-take  gamester 

demon  of  struggle  in  which  the  wTak  went'  "  ^  ' 
the  iron  hoof  of  the  Sfr„  "=/*'^='k  vvent  under 
Beast!  .  ^7°"^,  of  the  Great  Blond 

man...  'standn;,;^  ^'^""''^''^••••"ne 
-novements  o7"LX:rZ  t;T^^.'^--P'"^ 
the  hard-headed  old^ncesfors    thol  '"'"""'  °^ 

ers  of  three  generations   tho  !  '^'■°P'">'  ""'"■ 

marrow  of  Lir ""„:'  ^.'^'^.-'^.'''-^  to  the 

not  down  .  thnt  1'  '  '  ' ,        '""'""'  «'°"ld 

the  sacred  right'tow'k     ""\'  '^^^'  '"  P^°P"'^ 
of  existence.  '  ''"'  ^''^  foundation  pillars 

"Well  ?"  demanded  McGep   I 
want  you  to  guarantee  VoVZl         ^'""''^-     "^^ 
"You  shall  never  JetL.  "°"'""'°"  '"^"'" 

quietly  answered  True'sdae''frT;  '^""^  ""='" 
liberty  to  labor  and  capita,  "  '"'^  ^°'  '"'^'^''^"^^ 

^^The  two  men  might  have  heard  their  watches 

-I:^o;;:''-i^:i;-P'^-'^Truesdalemore 

Beyond  thi. ;  :r:t7e  r:.L:T'vr 

trickery,  and  gr    d       But  the™         '""'  ^"'^  '^«^' 
=>  scale  of  wages    o  me  uhV  "''  ^^^  P'"«'="t 

blockhead  anllumbT^s^^o:  ertZtmT  "  "^^  ^ 
^. ood  man,  who  doesn't  needtaVhinjr/t;- 


276 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


pens  to  be  doing  the  same  work — that  moment,  I 
say,  you  are  interfering  with  my  rights  to  my  own 
property!  That  is  tyranny!  ....  :\nd,  the  min- 
ute you  tell  me  I  must  deny  any  man  work  who 
wants  to  work,  because  he  is  not  a  member  of  your 
union,  I  say  you  are  interfering  with  that  man's 
freedom  and  life !" 

There  was  a  heavy,  embarrassed  silence.  Again, 
Truesdale  heard  the  wires  droning  their  ceaseless 
chant.  McGee  smiled.  He  was  so  sure  that  he 
held  what  would  change  the  tune  of  the  argument. 
Like  Ward,  McGee's  belief  was  the  argument  of 
Force. 

"I  ain't  going  to  argue  with  you,  Mr.  Truesdale," 
he  said.  "It's  too  late  in  the  day  to  argue  against 
unions!  They're  here  to  stay;  but,  Mr.  Trues- 
dale— "  he  leaned  forward,  lowering  his  voice  and 
drawing  a  large  envelope  fiom  his  breast  pocket — 
"supposin'  I  tell  you  I  have  in  that  there  envelope 
a  statement  signed  by  Kipp,  the  engineer,  saying 
the  Consolidated  had  tunneled  a  hundred  yards  into 
your  mines — what  do  you  say  to  swapping  horses, 
sir?  I  give  you  the  envelope:  you  recognize  our 
union!  Know  what  will  happen?  That  suit  against 
you  will  be  quashed;  Tom  Ward  hit  hard  between 
the  eyes;  your  stock,  which  has  been  sinking  to  the 
heels  of  y'r  boots,  is  goin'  to  jump  up  quick!  Your 
mines  go  on  while  Ward's  lock  up — you  get  the 
trade — see?" 

McGee  smiled  broadly,  and  extended  the  en- 
velope. 


ADD  PURPOSE  277 

"Do  .  ou  mcnn  mc  to  take  it?"  asked  Truesdale 
unmoved  and  iinnioving. 

"Say   the   word--.n'   it's  yours!"   declared   Mc- 
Oee   lighting  a  cigar  with  a  hand  that  trembled 

Then  McGee-I  say  th-  word!  If  you  think 
abo  and  capual  can  lock  arms  to  exploit  the  pub- 
hc.-h,gher  wages,  higher  prices-you  are  mistaken  ! 
rou  take  the  American  public  for  a  bigger  fool 
than  It  ,s  ,f  you  think  it  will  dance  to  two  tunes  and 
pay  the  piper  for  both  I  AkGee,  I  say  the  word- 
1  will  „o/  promise  „„,  to  employ  non-union  men! 

eltherd--"'"^''""'^^"^'"''^'-^"^'^^)' 
McGee  jerked  back  rigid,  as  if  he  had  been  hit  by 
a  bullet  He  rose,  buttoning  the  envelope  in  his 
coat  a  figure  of  towering  wrath.  Three  sharp  raps 
of  the  clenched  knuckles  struck  'IVuesdale's  desk, 
is  on!"  "'  ""'^"■"^"'^'  ^i'— take  notice-the  strike 

* 
So  the  strike  was  on;  and  the  fight  was  on;  and 
the  suit  was  on,  put  at  the  foot  of  n  list  of  two 
thousand  other  pending  suits  in  order  to  depress  the 
stock  market;  and  the  stock  was  down;  and  cus- 
omers  captured  by  rivals  selling  lower  than  the 
cost  of  production  in  one  town  where  Truesdale's 
salesmen  went,  twice  as  high  as  the  cost  of  produc- 
t.on  ,n  another  town  where  Truesdale's  salesmen 
did  not  go-a  tnck  made  possible  by  the  railroads 
granting  special  rates  for  Ward's  mines  and  rebates 
to  Ward  for  all  coal  hauled  from  the  Truesdale 


J78 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


mines.  /Iiid  it  was  all  perfectly  legal;  that  is,  it  was 
dime  so  that  it  could  not  be  proved  illegal. 

Truesdale  did  little  work  for  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon. He  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets, 
paced  the  floor,  then  sent  for  his  manager  and  his 
lawyer.  The  manager  with  the  gray  whiskers  and 
the  gray  suit  and  sand-papered  voice  wore  an  '1- 
told-you-so'  air.  To  him  Truesdale  gave  orders  to 
go  down  to  New  York  by  the  midnight  train  and 
protect  the  company's  stock  on  the  Stock  Exchange 
next  day,  at  any  cost,  by  buying  all  that  was  of- 
fered. 

"Can — can  we  afford — is  that  feasible?"  asked 
the  manager  cautiously. 

A  man  who  owns  only  a  fourth  of  his  company's 
stock  must  plainly  have  a  bank  at  his  back  to  buy 
up  the  other  three-quarters. 

"It  Is  feasible  for  one  day — Rawlins  I  An  ava- 
lanche is  not  going  to  hit  the  floor  to-morrow  I 
Steady  her  up  for  one  day!  Then,  call  n  emer- 
gency meeting  of  the  directors  for  to-morrow  after- 
noon herel    This  thing  Is  going  beyond  us!" 

"I  thought  so,"  muttered  Rawlins. 

To  the  lawyer  Truesdale  issued  instructions  that 
a  countersuit  be  filed  against  Ward  for  tunneling 
off  his  limits,  and  a  suit  be  prepared  against  the 
railroads  for  granting  rebates.  Anyoie  conversant 
with  the  law  will  readily  understand  that  each  of 
these  suits  was  good  for  two  years'  delay  and, 
for  several  fortunes  to  those  harpies  fattening  off 
the  law's  delay.     When  the  lawyer  went  away  to 


ADD  PURPOSE 


279 

look  up  how  McGec's  evidence  could  best  be  forced 
rom   h.m,    by   summons   or   injunction,   Truesdal- 

over  the  telephone. 

What  was  that?  Yes  ....  they  had  heard 

of  the  break  wth  the  G.  C. !     What  did  it  mean? 
■  .  .  .  And  Nv^at  the  deuce  was  the  matter  in  New 

in?  "       Wh  ""'''  ..r°  "•=■'  '^^'"^  'he  sell. 

■ng.' What  gang  d,d  those  floor  traders  rep. 

resent,   anyway?  ....   Wasn't  it  a  case  of  pure 
jollymg  ....  brokers  playing  a  smart  game 
ouymg  and  selling  ..  .   .  twisting  sales  back  and 
forward  to  each  other  when  the  stock  was  not  in 

.  :  ■  ;.■,  ?  "'""^'  "  ^="  contrary  to  rules- 
and^why  d.dn't  Truesdale  put  up  a  trick  to  catch 
tnemr  •  •  .  .  .  Why  not  give  orders  for  other 
traders  to  buy  up  all  that  was  offered?  That 

^Jld  cmch  the  trick!  ....  They  would  have  to 
find  the  stock  they  had  sold  short,  or  howll  .  . 
Well  .  .     .let  -em  howl!  .  .  .  Yes,  of  course,  they 
approved  of  what  Truesdale  had  decided:  that  was 
the  company's  policy-to   be  conservative:   a  man 

lo  JheloorthTngf  ^"^'  ''  '"  '''  "--"'^  ^°'-"^  - 
That  was  the  gist  of  the  telephone  talks.  Trues- 
dale, pacing  the  length  of  his  office,  wondered 
whether  they  would  call  it  "a  fool  thing"  for  him 
to  be  monkeying  with  what  Ward  had  designated 
as     conscience";   what  he   himself   called    "princi- 

flT       Ml    ••;  •  ■}''-"'°"°^  'he  directors'  meet- 
ing  would  clarify  things. 


28o 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


He  heard  the  clerks  banking  their  ledgers  shut, 
closing  desk  top<,  locking  the  vault  with  a  swing  of 
the  ponderous  door;  and  the  last  footsteps  died 
faintly  in  the  hall.  A  thousand  harbor  lights  twink- 
led through  the  gray  mist  of  the  ocean  front.  The 
wires  kept  up  their  ceaseless  chant  .  .  .  the  rush 
.  .  .  rush  ....  rush  ....  of  Force,  invisible,  im- 
personal, unseeing,  unswerving;  but,  then,  as  I  rues- 
dale  recollected,  listening,  it  was  a  liiiiiiiiii  hand  at 
the  end  of  the  wires  that  set  the  invisible  Force 
^-)ing,  that  checked  it,  that  hirnessed  the  unseen, 
unseeing  Power.  A  human  brain — a  thing  above 
and  beyond  that  controlled  Brute-Force — the  God 
in  Man!  Me  took  out  his  watch.  It  was  time  for 
the  home  walk  that  had  grown  to  be  the  brightest 
part  of  the  day  for  him.  She  would  be  leaving  her 
studio  now,  for  the  cottage  up  the  hill  in  the  sub- 
urbs. Ten  minutes  later  Truesdale  was  crossing 
the  snowy  area  of  a  city  square  on  the  lookout  for 
a  very  erect  figure  that  walked  with  a  spring,  brisk 
and  light. 

"Ah  .  .  .  here  we  are!  You  were  ahead  of  me, 
to-night,"  he  said,  swinging  in  time  with  her  quick, 
buoyant  step. 

"We  seem  to  meet  here,"  said  Madeline. 

"Yes — it  is  much  better  for  you  to  walk  than 
ride  in  those  stuffy  trams!  I  wish  you  would  let 
me  fetch  the  trap  round  for  you!  We  could  spin 
out  aloni;  the  sea  before  dinner.  A  whiff  of  sea 
air  would  do  you  good.     I  always  take  a  run  about 


ADD  PURPOSE 


281 


before  rounding  up  for  dinner.  Suppose  we  take 
a  canter  out  by  the  pa  ^  io-night?" 

"Canter?"  Madeline  laughed,  but  suddenly  so- 
berc^    as   she    locked    in   his    face   for   an   answer. 

I  I  ^;  rL~''''"''''''  Vour  f.ncc  is  white.  You 
look  ,11  here  are  the  strangest  lines— there  is  the 
oddest  look  .  .   ." 

"Cornel"  he  said.  "I'm  tuckered  out  with  busi- 
ncss— that  is  all!" 

They  walked  for  half  a  mile  without  speaking, 
when  fruesdale  turned  to  her  abruptly 

Take  my  arm,"  he  said.     "I  want  to  talk'" 

.  •  ti'"i'r'^''''  '^°'^"  "  '*"=  ""y-  Ihc  lights 
twmkle  like  fire  mist!" 

"Yes,  you  always  give  me  the  fee'  ■  that  life  is 
a  th.ng  too  beautiful  to  be  real,  Madeline;  but,  do 
you  know,  it  is  a  mighty  dark  proposition,  some- 
times,   too!     It  isn't  all   art,   and  .(oodness,   and 

beauty-not  by  a   long  ....   long ,,,„,, 

rhere  doesn  t  seem  much  a  fellow  can  do  at  tim.s 
but  hang  on  to  what  he  knows  is  right  with  his 
teeth,  and  keep  butting  through  the  dark!  And  I 
.ieclare,  when  I  find  myself  acknowledging  this  is 
hard,  I  could  kick  myself!  You  know,  I  like  the 
struggle  as  part  of  the  game  !  Xo  isles  of  bliss  with 
Idleness  forme. 

IauX°d.    """"'""^    ^'"'"'"    '"    '^''    ^""^■'     '^' 
"No,"  he  added  savagely,  "I  want  life  to  be  a 

nght  ...  a  fight  .  .  .  ." 
"And  a  victory,"  she  said. 


282 


THIi    NEW    UAWN 


"For  right,"  he  added.  "And  that's  just  it  I 
I'm  hanged  if  I  like  to  sec  the  right  knuckled  under," 
and  he  laughed,  but  in  the  virile  note  was  a  tremble, 
and  her  clasp  unconsciously  tightened  on  his  arm. 

"You  know,"  he  went  on,  "you  arc  my  standard 
bearer?" 

"I?"  repeated  Madeline. 

"You  make  the  fight  both  easier  and  harder! 
You  make  a  fellow  buckle  up  without  his  knowing, 
so  that  the  light's  a  bit  of  fun  in  the  day's  work! 
Somehow,  he  doesn't  care  a  cuss  for  anything  but 
the  right  when  he's  with  you!  You  are  sort  of  a 
lifting  kick  to  a  man  going  out  in  the  arena  of  a 
football  fight!  It's  easy  when  he's  with  you,  but 
when  he  sets  out  to  Jo  the  business,  to  put  right 
into  terms  of  the  dollar  bill,  you  know,  it's  a  harder 
proposition." 

"But  why?" 

"Because,  by  doing  it  he  might  lose  you  I" 

"No— never  I" 

The  words  were  out  before  she  knew. 

Truesdale  stood  still,  looking  down  at  the  city 
lights. 

"Do — you — mean — that?"  he  asked,  sharply. 

She  took  her  hand  from  his  arm.  A  sense  half 
shame,  half  fright  at  her  own  plunge,  gripped 
Madeline's  throat.  She  felt  a  lo*:  of  pulses  there 
that  she  had  never  known  to  exisi,  and  power  of 
speech  seemed  floundering  in  the  depths  of  a  new 
confusion.  Then,  it  came  to  her  that  her  own  con- 
sciousness might  impart  deeper  intent  to  the  words 


ADD  PUKFOSE 


281 


I  mean,     she  ciulcavornl  to  cxiJain    "I   ,„ 

^at  „„  .an  wo.,.,  ever  ,o,c  „.y  ,;:::i3::;p  L^^: 

he  dij  what  was  rinht!" 

"Oh?"  answered  ■rruc-scla,c,  „)ughtfui,v  "Thnf 
-asnt  exact,y  what  I  „ua„t-what  I  had  hoped- 
-I-no  „,atter!      I',,   te„   you  .son,e   jay  S    1 

^aw  r    ''  ^""  ""'  '^"^  '"^•-  »"''•"  ''^-  ='dJ'--d    ' 

r      I  .'"  P'"""  *"•■"  ""  ''=  '"^"J-^JI      lake  my 
arm!     I  haven't  finished  talking!"  ^ 

And    with   a   consistency  that  was   not  obvious 

ot  rapture  ,s  pa<n,  how  much  .      ecstasy  so  Cose 
akm  to  anguish  that  a  hair's  b.eadth  may  L    d 

vexed  at  her  -nvn  impetuosity,   a  chill  came    .yer 
h  r   that   numbed   life.      When   he   had   sZ     h 
/r  endsh,p  •  was  „o,  wh.t  he  meant,   life  Pushed 

replaced  her  hand  on  his  arm,  she  was  so  happy  that 
Imppmess  seemed  to  eclip.e  life  itself.  She  «a,ked 
m  a  dream.  Her  feet  did  not  touch  earth  HeJ 
heart  was  beat  ng  so  that  she  could  not  speak  She 
aw  neither  the  long,  treCined  avenue  nor  the 
wink  ing  mist  alight  with  frosty  gleam.  She  saw 
only  a  brightness,  the  brightness  of  an  undreamed 

Z)  \.     '^  '°'"'  '°  unexpectedly,  the  great 

ertr:ad  •:  t"  ^°"''  "-^-^^-'^ "-  '-- 

fore,  not  an  hour  ago.  they  had  been  comrades- 


284 


THK    NKVV    DAWN 


his  voice,  his  hand,  his  approacii,  his  cumpanion- 
ship,  like  others. 

Not  a  week  ago  had  another  man  stood  in  her 
presence  telling  her  that  she  had  influenced  him; 
and,  had  she  not  hung  over  his  ambiguous  letter, 
moved  at  once  with  deep  interest,  deep  distrust? 
Had  not  a  something  within  her  pleaded  for  that 
other  ma:  ?  But  now — there  was  no  other  man; 
there  was  no  pleading.  There  was  neither  trust  nor 
distrust,  it  was  there,  imperious,  existent,  all-ex- 
istent, enveloping  h;r  life — giving  her  new  life,  new 
being,  new  hope,  new  heart-beats !  She  wanted  to 
be  home,  to  be  alone,  to  be  in  the  sacred  stillness 
of  her  own  room  ....  to  think  ....  to  pray  in 
a  prayer  that  could  have  no  words !  What  had 
caused  the  difference?  ....  Was  it  the  man's  self- 
revealings  that  had  touched  her?  Other  men  had 
revealed  self  and  had  not  interested  her.  Did  he 
know?  .  .  .  Did  he  realize?  .  .  .  Had  he  touched 
anyone  else  like  this?  .  .  .  Could  it  be  possible  that 
she  had  been  to  him  what  he  had  become  to  her? 
....  She  remembered  how,  not  a  month  ago,  she 
had  told  him  that  destiny — the  drawing  of  river  to 
sea,  and  sea  to  sun — had  frightened  her;  and  he  had 
answered  that  it  was  only  the  resistance  of  her  in- 
dependence. She  must  hide  .  .  .  hide  this  new 
thing  till  she  was  sure  ....  till  she  was  sure  1  But 
he  was  talking. 

"I  used  to  think,  you  know,  when  we  passed 
crosses  and  statues  in  Brittany  that  Christ's  day  was 


ADD  PURPOSE 


29s 


done :_  they  were  only  the  sign  posts  of  a  traveled 

"And  now?" 

"Christ's  day  is  not  begun!  Speaking  of  Him 
as  a  teacher  of  men,  Madeline.  I  thought  we  had 
developed  so  that  the  race  was  ready  for  a  new 
system— broader,  bigger." 

"And  now?" 

He  laughed  harshly.  "We're  back  to  the  Nebu- 
chadnezzar stage  again;  beasts  of  the  field,  holding 
h,s  ow„  by  brute  strength  ....  the  Great  Blond 
Beast  code  of  existence.  We  haven't  begun 
.ve  haven  t  begun  the  fighting  of  right  for  its  own 
sake  w,thout  reward!  Fancy  fellows  crusading  to" 
comer  "''   '"""''"   °"   '^'  booty  to 

Madeline  was  mystified.  Was  he  bitter  over  im- 
pendmg  loss  ?  She,  who  had  first  spurred  him,  couTd 
not  answer        t  was  like  the  old  escapade  of  the 

lone"?-  t  '^'  '""  ""'"^  '"^°  ''■'  ^"^'  ^^  'tood  up 
alone  to  the  consequences.  She  vaguely  felt  the 
man  s  faculties  in  dark  conflict  with  dim  forces  o 
wh.ch  her  woman's  life  gave  her  no  clew.  How 
tnflmg  how  paltry  her  art  seemed  beside  this  liv- 
.ng,  palp,tat,ng  life-and-death  struggle  of  men  every 

whlh  T  ''™"^'y  '^'y  ^^""'^  fhe  conflict  of 

which  women  knew  nothing!    Scarred,  perhaps,  and 
no    without  blame,  they  emerged  fron,  the  battle 

she  Tu  T''"^  °^  "'""■■'"«'  ^f="^^''"^  f-^'t  that 


286 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Then,  his  hand  had  gripped  across  hers  on  his 
arm,  and  the  words  were  coming  from  him,  tense, 
smothered,  blunt,  in  naked  truth. 

"Madeline,  if  you  should  fail  me  .  .  .  if  you 
should  fail  me,  and  turn  out  a  woman  who  played 
with  love  like  Mrs.  Ward,  it  would  smash  me  1  I 
should  feel  as  if  my  life  had  been  built  an  inverted 
pyramid — founded  on  the  wrong  end!  I  should 
topple  back  bang  to  the  broad  foundations  of  pri- 
mordial, brute  instincts — Self!     When  I  am  with 

you  it  seems  as  if  everything everything 

....  business,  nationality,  prosperity  .  .  .  must  be 
founded  on  right,  won't  build  up  solidly  unless  it  is 
founded  on  right;  and  on  the  apex  of  my  pyramid 
I  place  all  such  women  as  you  stand  for  .  .  .  truth, 
honor,  purity,  love!  But,  good  God,  if  you  should 
fail  me  ....  as  I  see  women  fail  men  every  day, 
and  play  with  love  the  way  the  beast-cat  plays  with 
a  tortured  rat  ....  if  you  should  make  of  love  a 
light  ihing  .  .  .  ." 

He  did  not  finish.  He  walked  on  faster.  Made- 
line was  trembling.  That  word,  which  she  had  not 
dared  to  utter,  he  had  named,  repeated,  taken  for 
granted,  consecrated  as  an  unspoken  covenant  on 
which  hung  his  eternal  destiny.  She  had  not  dreamed 
of  love  coming  to  her  in  this  guise,  splendid,  terri- 
ble, jealous  of  its  own  faultlessness,  of  its  own  stain- 
lessness,  of  its  own  worth — jealous  of  perfection  as 
.  god — a  thing  that  might  lead  a  man's  soul  up  to 
Heaven,  or  fling  it  down  to  Hell  1  She  had  not 
dreamed  of  it  having  consequences  that  were  like  a 


ADD  PURPOSE 


287 


propulsion  to  all  the  best  in  womanhood,  or  all  the 
worst.  She  had  not  thought  of  it  as  the  doorway 
through  which  human  beings  pass  to  a  Better  or  a 
Worse,  to  the  Beast  Code  or  the  Spirit  Code  ir- 
revocably and  forever!  ' 

"Forgive  me,"  he  was  saying.  "I  know  you  can 
never  fail  mcl  If  I  fail  it  will  be  my  own  fault! 
If  my  pyramid  turns  upside  down  it  will  be  because 
of  myself!" 

They  did  not  speak  again  till  they  were  almost 
at  the  cottage.     He  had  said:  "I'll  see  you  at  Mrs 
Ward's  reception?" 

"Yes,"  she  had  answered,  half  angered,  half 
awed. 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  what  you  women  do  for 
us  men?"     He  held  open  the  gate. 

"We  might  know— that  is,  we  might  know— if— 
if  you  told  us,"  she  answered.  Why  was  her  voice 
pleading?  What  was  it  pleading  for?  What  did 
she  long  to  hear  him  say  that  set  all  the  chords  of 
her  being  vibrating  with  a  music  that  was  not  of 
earth? 

"Suppose,  by  doing  what  is  right,  a  fellow  gets 
himself  ruined,  smashed— loses  the  love  that  in- 
spired  his  life?"  he  questioned. 

The  floods  of  fear,  of  almost  terror,  of  rapture, 
of  delirious  ecstasy  were  again  sweeping  over  her' 
She  did  not  pause  to  think.  She  did  not  know  the 
words  she  was  saying.  She  hardly  recognized  her 
own  voice  whispering  with  husky  breaks:  "I  can 
only  judge  for  myself.  True;  but,  if  I  were  a  woman 


288 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


in  such  a  case,  I  should  care  ...  oh,  I  should 
love  ....  yes,  love  .  .  .  the  man  who  dared  to  do 
right,  who  dared  to  risk  losing  all  ....  I  should 
.  .  .  ."  her  voice  choked,  "I  should  love  him  to 
the  very  brink  of  Hell,  and  down  into  Hell,  though 
the  whole  world  fell  on  top  of  him !  .  .  .  .  He 
would  have  my  love  ....  my  devotion  ....  al- 
ways ....   always!" 

True  did  not  look  at  the  slim  figure  visibly  trem- 
bling on  the  other  side  of  the  gate.  He  stood  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  watching  the  lights  twinkling 
through  the  mist,  but  she  saw  that  his  hand  shook, 
and  lier  eyes  fell  as  before  a  fear.  His  answer 
came  from  smotnered  depths. 

"Then  I'll  be  Strong;  for  you  have  given  me 
Purpose!" 

The  last  word  rang  out  like  iron  on  steel. 

When  she  looked  up  he  had  gone. 

Upstairs,  in  the  sacred  stillness  of  her  own  room, 
with  the  white  light  from  the  snow  checkering  the 
floor  in  panes  of  silver,  Madeline  sank  on  her  knees 
at  the  couch  with  her  face  in  the  pillow,  to  think 
....  to  think;  and  her  thoughts  were  a  wordk  j 
prayer,  a  hymn,  a  rapture !  She  could  not  think. 
She  could  only  .  .  .   feel! 

She  raised  her  face  to  the  sky  of  the  deep  night 
distances  streaming  in  silver  tb'^ough  the  window. 

"Oh,  God — this  is  the  best — the  best — the  very 

best — of  all,"  she  said  in  a  sob. 

*  *  * 

Downstairs,  Budd  McGee  sat  in  the  kitchen  at  a 


ADD  PURPOSE  285 

side  table  "doin'  lessons  "     H» 
copybook  wi.h  red  T^d  a"  elpen""^  '"  ' 

across  e^S  SI trhTaf.rrd';'"''"^'' 
topful  of  hafp    an^  •    I-        .    '  ""'^^  ^^»s  so 

in  large  capitals  xvlfh  f         grunting,  wrote 

exclanfatio?ma  ks  '  nVl  '"''  '"'^  '"'"'^™"'  ^"^^ 
novel:  "°"^''  '°  P""«"ate  a  modern 

M,ster-Sau„ders~is-„o,J^   il 


CHAPTER   XX 


THE   CREED  ON   EXHIBITION 


i 


You  may  condemn  a  man's  methods  with  bell, 
book  and  candle,  but  if  the  methods  materialize  in 
a  steam  yacht,  and  a  private  car,  and  an  art  gallery, 
with  one  house  in  his  home  city,  a  second  at  New- 
port, a  third  in  the  South,  a  fourth  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean, a  fifth  in  Paris  and  a  sixth  in  London — 
all  equipped  in  a  style  to  excite  the  envy  of  princes — 
there  is  a  likelihood  of  the  world  taking  your  con- 
demnation for  envy. 

Your  cautious  gentleman  might  sh.itce  his  head  at 
Tom  Ward's  "high  finance,"  and  utter  dark  hints 
about  "sky-rockets  fizzling  out,"  and  "stock  that 
was  most'y  water  and  gas,"  and  wealth  that  ran  into 
the  billions  ueing  "the  Paper  Age  sort" ;  but  when 
the  high  finance,  and  sky-rockets,  and  aqua-gaseous 
papier-mache  wealth  materialized  in  Mrs.  Tom 
Ward's  reception,  your  cautious  gentleman  kept 
quiet  and  accepted  the  invitation. 

The  reception  was  what  the  society  papers  railed 
"the  affair  of  that  year";  and  it  was  certainly  an 
affair  to  them,  for  the  entire  staff  of  reporters  spent 
a  week  beforehand  .vriting  descriptions  of  the  gowns 
that  were  to  be  worn,  and  the  entire  staff  of  editors 
390 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      291 

tetnhot""""  •"■"r^'°"  ^''"^  'he  number  of 
telephone    messages    from    guests    ordering    their 
names  to  be  kept  out  of  the  papers,  and  lessef  gue 
a  kmg  the.r  names  not  to  be  omitted.    Next  fo  th 
keeper  of  the  gates  of  Paradise  those  society  re 
porters  could  record  varieties  of  human  nature 

By  half-past  ten  o'clock  the  whole  length  of  the 
dr,veway  through  the  park  to  the  Ward  mans  on 
was  such  a  press  of  carriages  that,  in  order  to "1 
admittance  to  the  places  reserved  for  them,  the  re" 
porters  were  obliged  to  leave  their  hansoms  and 
foot  .t  m  patent  leather  across  the  snow. 

Of  course,  grand  dames  of  the  ascendant  declared 
up  to  the  very  n,ght  of  the  reception  that  //..,  woS 
0/  go,  but  when  the  night  came  round  so  dfd  they; 
f  not  humbly,  at  least  gracefully  sandwiched  be- 
ween  the  newly-rich  and  the  not-so-newly-rich,  quite 
onfident  m   the.r  own   minds   that  their  pr  sence 

iar:;:'''^'""^=^"'''^'""''--^"4-ted 

To  Ward  the  affair  was  undisguisedly  a  nuisance- 
"■  cessary,   but  a   nuisance.      Having  once   entered 
.nto  U  wth  his  wife  he  determined  it  should     e 
Jone  on  the  proper  scale.     Musicians  of  world-fame 
^  ere  brought  on  a  special  train  from  New  York 
A  previous  train  the  same  day  carried  the  rarest 
owers  that  could  be  bought  in  three  cities,  for  th" 
decorat,o„  of  the  house  and  the  supper  tables      A 
ram,  s hghtly  later  than  the  n>usician''   bore    o'eigt 
guests  from  Washington,  among  whom  was  a  pr^c^ 


a9> 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


come  to  America  to  woo  the  nation  into  a  European 
alliance. 

That  prince  was  afterwards  heard  to  say  that  he 
saw  e\idcnce  at  Ward's  reception  of  greater  wealth 
than  the  annual  incomes  of  half  a  dozen  European 
kingdoms.  lie  had  not  believed  that  democracy — 
equal  opportunities  for  every  man — could  produce 
such  private  magnificence.  It  was  a  greater  power 
— he  had  not  said  "menace" — than  the  standing 
armies  of  Europe.  He  could  not  believe  that  indi- 
vidual liberty  would  bring  about  such  national  opu- 
lence. The  question  he  asked  was:  would  the  opu- 
lence destroy  its  creator — the  liberty? 

Mrs.  Ward  received  her  guests  below  the  arch 
that  led  from  the  drawing  rooms  to  the  art  gallery. 
Unbending  and  strong  as  a  pillar  stood  Ward  by 
her  side.  American  beauty  roses,  interspersed  with 
a  species  of  rare,  early-blooming,  gorgeous  gloxinia, 
banked  both  sides  of  the  arch.  Gowned  in  a  cos- 
tume that  had  been  a  field-day  to  the  society  re- 
porters— a  gold-shot,  pinkish-black,  gauze-spangled 
thing,  hand-painted  in  the  flaring  draperies  of  the 
skirt,  and  specially  woven  in  French  silk  mills — her 
face  marble  white,  with  the  dark  eyes  lustrous  as 
stars,  the  languor  animated  by  a  wonderful  bril- 
liancy, Mrs.  Ward  herself  looked  like  some  splen- 
did exotic  bought  and  brought  at  wealth's  com- 
mand to  stand  between  the  native  roses  and  tiic 
tropical,  velvety,  deep-lipped  gloxinia;  a  tribute  to 
the  towering  power  in  the  person  of  her  husband. 

Her  jewels  were  the  sensation  of  the  prince's 


THE  CREED  0.\  EXHllilTJON 


293 

York  Jd  W  7-  °"^  ''''"S  t''='t  'N'ew 

compleTr Se  for  t  e'  "'"•^'  ''''''"'  """^''^  ^'^^ 
'°  hi»  wife.  J  wel  that  h  """■'  "'^'''"^  ^'^^ 
tury  for  their  „!^-  ''"  '"^"'"'^  half  a  cen- 

purcha '  ^      T"^  '""^  ^'^^  '  "^'"'"°"  (-^  their 

purchase  were  not  hkcly  to  have  duplicates  in  New 


194 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


York  and  Washington.  Mrs.  Ward  wore  the  rope 
of  black  pearls. 

"You  could  visit  the  courts  of  Russia  or  Persia 
without  seein({  anything  equal  to  them,"  one  of  the 
prince's  attendants  was  heard  remarking. 

Tom  Ward  had  yet  another  surprise  for  what 
he  called  "those  foreign  fellows."  It  is — I  think — 
prtity  generally  known  to  the  goldsmith  craftsmen 
that  there  are  only  three  perfect  and  complete  sets 
of  gold  dining  plate  in  the  world.  Two  are  pos- 
sessed by  the  rulers  of  the  two  strongest  empires 
in  the  world.  The  third  was  seen  by  the  prince 
when  he  sat  down  to  the  midnight  supper  of  the 
Ward  reception.  Nor  did  he  fail  to  observe  that 
the  wines  were  of  the  same  date  as  he  had  tasted 
at  a  royal  dinner  in  England.  Ward  had  bidden 
highest  for  them  when  the  royal  cellars  were  auc- 
tioned to  the  public.  The  prince  paid  no  empty 
compliment  to  his  hostess,  lie  realized  this  was 
not  an  American  of  the  umbrella-hat  type.  His  eyes 
rested  on  the  conservatory.  There  were  exotics 
from  Africa,  from  South  America,  from  Persia.  He 
glanced  over  the  dining  room.  There  were  tapes- 
tries from  France,  and  Italy,  and  China — old  tapes- 
tries of  priceless  workmanship  and  lost  dyes. 
He  scanned  the  art  gallery.  There  were  paintings 
by  the  best  artists  of  Russia,  and  France,  and  Italy, 
and  Spain,  and  England,  and  Holland.  Then,  the 
prince's  eye  came  back  to  Mrs.  Ward,  chiseled  in 
feature  as  a  princess,  highly  keyed,  over-cultivated, 
pampered,  artificial,  imperious  as  a  queen,  with  the 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      195 

easy  spontaneous  gayety  of  her  American  woman- 
hood Of  all  Wnni's  possessions  she  was  the  costii- 
est,  the  rarest.  What  the  prince  said  pleased  Ward 
more  than  the  highest-flown  compliment. 

"And  this"— his  eye  wandering  from  conserva- 
tciry  to  art  gallcry-"and  this"-with  a  long  pause, 
this— ,s  America— the  youngest  of  the  nations! 
lour  conquests  levy  tribute  on  every  one  of  us 
across  the  sea !  Your  bloodless  victories  have  done 
It  I  It  IS  a  new  phenomenon!  We  must  invent  a 
new  diplomacy— we  must  send  our  sons   to  carry 

off  your  daughters!     That is  the  only  re- 

dress!  ' 

Ward,  fireproof  to  flattery,  could  not  resist  that 
insidious  homage.     It  was  good  to  be  alive.     Life 
was  a  merry  game  when  one  succeeded:  the  wine  of 
battle,  a  fiery  tincture  to  the  blood  when  one  con- 
quered.    And,  Ward  had  conquered  that  very  day 
1  he  papers  were  full  of  it,  though  the  most  of  the 
guests  had  not  had  time  to  read  the  details,  and  the 
details  themselves  were  still  obscure.     The  rooms 
of  the  reception  were  full  of  it,   too.     Wherever 
men  grouped  questions  went  and  came  at  random 
Among  the  aigrettes,  and  diamond  tiaras,  and  jew- 
e.cd  hair-ornaments,  nodding  like  the  clover-tops  of 
a  wind-blown  field,  shiny  heads— oare  as  a  billiard 
ball    men's  voices,  lilce  bass  to  the  tinlcling  treble 
ot  the  women's  laughter,  uttered  such  enigmatical 
statements  as  these: 

''Who  began  it,  anyway?    I'd  have  done  the  same 
m  Ward's  place.     My  brokers  were  on  the  floor 


196 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


when  it  happened,  ami  it  was  as  quick  as — ihal/" 
with  a  snap  of  the  fingers. 

Then  from  a  whcez.y,  dissipated  gentleman  with 
a  protuberant,  white  waistcoat: 

"I  tell  you — other  parties  started  it  I  Sort  o' 
thought  they'd  jolly  Ward  up,  that  sort  o'  thing!" 
A  wheezing  cough.  "Ward  gave  'em  all  the  jolly- 
ing they'll  want  for  some  time — I  can  tell  youl" 
with  a  reddening  of  nose,  and  ears,  and  chin. 

Then  from  the  veteran  broker  who  had  con- 
gratulated Truesdale  so  heartily: 

"Look  here,  Dillon  I  What  are  you  talking  about 
so  innocently?  You  are  in  this  game  with  Ward, 
yourself;  so  is  Truesdale!  What  the  devil  are  you 
up  to  with  your  ra/.zlc-dazzles?" 

Then  from  a  clean-shaved  youth  with  a  mon- 
ocle, who  would  have  mortgaged  soul  and  salary  for 
an  invitation  to  one  of  Mrs.  Ward's  receptions: 

"Don't  be  too  sure  it  was  a  smash!  You  can 
never  tell  which  side  the  smash  is  on  till  the  checks 
are  cashed!" 

Nevertheless,  the  opinion  in  this  group  was  that 
the  smash  had  not  been  on  Ward's  side,  though 
one  anicmic  gentleman  with  an  eye  for  dramatic 
effects — be  was  a  tenor — suggested  that  it  "wouli^ 
be  like  Mr.  Ward  to  show  that  iron  nerve,  even  if 
he  had  been  smashed." 

Among  so  many  guests  were  the  omnipresent 
types:  the  grand  dames,  who  \vill  confer  a  favor  on 
Heaven  if  they  condescend  to  go  there;  the  cork- 
screwing, socially  ambitious  women,  gimleting  a  way 


THE  CREED  ON  EXhlBIlION 


to  favor  to  lulp  hushuiids  wl 
lawyers,   or  iloctors;   the   b 


297 


i«  were  l)r,,kt 


„,„„■!       1  .    "'   ■■■"    ■""'■W'ttcJ   youilis,    wild 

con    dered  recept.ons  salvation;   a.d  the  fa.-l,  ain  d 

gent  e,„en  who  detested  function,  and  only  ca        to 

ee  t  e  pnncc;  wo.nen  v.l.o  dressed  on  the'prin    p  e 

about,  be  ter  to  ,„<,ue  than  to  he.  ignored;  girls  who 
nunibered  more  irtations  and  conquests  tun  year  " 
and  gangrenous-hearted  folk  whose  pleasure  vvar^' 

And  among  the  guests  was  Madeline  Connor  sit- 

f.n^aga.,stabankofvWmeliliesintl,eartgal'erv 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  the  white  of  tife  i'£ 
set  off  the  red  of  her  cheeks,  and  that  the  spark  in  ' 
of  the  electnc  chandelier  above  was  not  so  b^    as 

Linden''"-,  '''-■  "-"^  '''">^  -te,-tai,u.d  1  : 
grand  ocl  gentleman  of  the  good  old  school,  with 
a  taste  for  f,ne  wines  and  fine  manners,  a  type  f 
fhe  gay  bachelors-ageless  as  century  ■^nt.-who 
pa.d  court  royally  to  your  mother,  and  pla  ,.J  tE^ 

^y^I^:.''''  ''T'  "^'  '"  ---ion  and 
w  1  vet  act  the  same  gallant  role  to  your  grandchil- 

f.nc'dul  ,T  °''^  'l'"''"^'  '''"P-*-'-^''^  '"  ='  thou- 
and  dull  silences!     Consolation  to  the  timid  wall- 

HowersI     Pnnces  of  diners-outl     Courtie-s  o     ex 
austless  homage  to  the  gray-haired  beauties  of  t  e' 

P    t,  and  beaux  to  five  gencrations-what  could  the 

hostess  do  without  you? 

He  had  captured  Madeline  the  mor-.ent  she  ha.l 
rnerged  from  the  cloak  room  to  salute  her  ho^tc 

VVnen  she  suggested  that  they  ensconce  themselves 


298 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


under  the  chandelier  he  gave  her  a  questioning  look. 

"Not  too  bright?"  he  asked,  biting  the  stubby 
ends  of  his  close-cropped,  gray  mustache. 

"Why  so?"  answered  Madeline.  "The  light  is 
behind  us,  and  the  lilies  will  screen  us  from  the 
crush  I" 

The  old  gentleman  caressed  his  thin,  gray  hair. 

"Beautiful  women  ought  not  to  be  screened,"  he 
protested.  "But  you  have  no  reason  to  fear  the 
light" ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  observed  that  she 
had  two  slight  wrinkles  on  her  neck  which  spelled 
out  ten  years  of  age  each.  Then  she  was  more 
than  twenty  and  not  yet  twenty-five.  That  was  the 
age  he  liked  best,  so  he  placed  the  rattan  chair  for 
her  and  stood  doing  homage. 

"We  artists  know  those  tricks,"  warned  Made- 
line, with  a  mocking  gesture  over  her  neck. 

"Heh,  if  that's  true,  we  old  fellows  must  wear 
high  chokers." 

Then  the  music  blared  out  from  the  hall  land- 
ing. 

"Wonderfully  beautiful  woman,  Mrs.  Ward," 
nodding  his  head  to  the  arch.  "I  hear  you  are 
great  friends,  you  two?" 

"Yes,  and  we  are  so  different.  Yet,  I  believe  we 
like  each  other  the  better  for  that.  I  have  often 
wondered  what  brought  her  to  me  in  the  studio? 
That  is  where  it  began,  you  know?" 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  queerly.  He  liked  n 
pair  of  gray  eyes  to  look  up  at  him  in  that  way 
and  wondered  whom  the  eyes  were  seeking  beyond 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      299 

his^shoulder,  but  being  of  the  old  school  did  not 

smash  ?    There  ,s  no  doubt  about  it  being  a  smash  I 

SfrWhTr-  '''"  ^^'^  °^  ^V"'^  on'theTotg 
siael  Why,  the  gang  went  nearly  crazy  when  th^v 
found  they  were  caught;  and  that  /oo.  laLnr^d^r  •'^ 
"i,  IIa  '^"'     '^'  "''^  gentleman  returned 

o  womltrih'""  '°  f"'  "^^  "^  '''^  °-'"'l  5 
or  woman,  hot-house  plant,  over-atmosphered  taken 

generations  of  culture  to  bring  her  out   nroud  -H 

gorgeous  and  splendid,  and  all^that.  ;ou  k'nowf  wt 

are  proud  to  know  her ;  but  I  can't  heln  f..  u 

untro.    d    after    a    snow    as    before!     But     Mrs 
Ward,"  he  drawled  on  the  word    "well     T  , 

tlr^il^  '''"  -"'-'-''  -ifiLl'l^^^pHeT: 
doesn  t  wilt  a  woman  in  the  long  run  " 

A   famous  player  was  shaking  out  all  sorts  nf 
notes   from   the   art  gallery  piano,   note      ike   the 
ear  g^^h  of  a  mountain  stream,  followed  by  a  m^I 
languorous,  mellow,  dreamy  melodv     th. 

".J  gentleman  stood  at  attention. 

There,"  he  said   as  the  sonnH  a;, a  *       m 

and  the  hand  clapping  cease^rd'thr  u  ".  beg^n^ 

thatswhatlmean!     Mrs.  Ward  is  like "haS 


300 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


bar  or  two  of  music.     You  are  a  chillier  latitude. 
The  attraction  between  you  is  odd." 

It  was  a  woman's  voice  behind  the  flowers,  a  voice 

with  a  lisping  purr;  " when  he  is  so  clever 

.  .  .  .'  a  soft  deprecating  laugh "not  to 

see  what  is  going  on  .  .  .  men  are  blind,"  another 
soft,  sneering,  cynical,  good-natured  laugh. 

The  answer  in  a  high  boyish  falsetto : 

"You  mean  Mrs.  W  ?  Now,  I  know  you  do. 
She  is  going  a  pace !  There  will  be  another  kind 
of  smash  soon  ....  Eh?  ...  Oh,  Pshaw! 
That's  saying  too  much!  .  .  There's  not  a  word 
of  truth  in  thai!  She  asks  the  girl  here  for  her  own 
sake.  They're  friends  ....  Eh?  ...  .  Pshaw! 
It's  just  a  lot  of  feminine  jealousy!" 

Then,  the  music,  rising,  falling,  swelling,  filling 
the  room  with  a  throbbing  rhythm;  and  the  old 
gallant's  voice,  soft,  modulated,  droning: 

"You  and  Mrs.  Ward  are  like  the  Duchess  of 

D arid  Princess  V.,  last  time  I  was  abroad! 

Big  garden  party,  festival,  you  know,  for  one  of 
the  queen's  pet  charities,  radium  hospital,  you  know; 
big  thing;  half  a  dozen  royalties  behind  it;  tickets 
two  guineas  apiece,  seats  extra!  Well,  the  duchess 
took  a  course  at  the  baths  to  reduce  her  avoirdupois, 
another  course  to  rub  out  these  things" — indicating 
crows'  feet  under  his  own  eyes — "another  course 
for — I'm  hanged  what!  But  she  arrived — whew!" 
He  raised  his  hands  deprecatingly,  raised  his  brows, 
raised  his  shoulders.  "That  was  a  costume — I 
give  you  my  word;  a  regular  creation;  cobwebs  and 


THE  CKEED  ON  EXHIBITION      301 

t-auze    you  know,  and  a  rainbow  shower  of  dia 

Duchel  of  D  !   '"P^"  ;^"^  "-"g  about  the 

uuchess  of  D !    Says  Mrs.  Ambassador: 

eveni^gi^  •-"°"'"  '^°  '""  '^''"''  "^^  '^'  ^^^^^'  '=•" 

"  'Princess  of  V '  "  said  I. 

"  'So  do  I,'  she  said,  'and  I'll  wager  this  cud  of 
teatha.  you  can't  tell  me  what  she  wore."  "      "^ 

ZtTf^-    ?°"'°^^'    The  princess  wore 

r".      "Tf.'^f^s  thmg  with  a  big  red  rose-  and 

m  hanged  .f  she  wore  a  single  ot'her  thing  b     'a 

kno„  the  newspapers  had  cried  the  duchess  ud 
but  the  princess  had  the  honors  V  A„.jZ  1!  u^', 
;oftly,  leaving  Madeline  to  i^Ver  wh  c  S tn 
the  story  had  w,th  Mrs.  Ward  and  herself 

M.^y     '  ^T^^\^''  >-""ning  his  eye  lightly  over 
Madelme  sshm,  white  figure  with  no  orn-ment  .ave 
the  rub,es,  "she  hasn't  heard  a  word!    She  is  bok 
mg  for  someone!     I'll  have  to  get  him .'" 
do?"'  b°u"t  ;h     "''•'  "^'"^.  ^^°""°^•  ^'■"  '^  ^he  lucky 

that  ;;.::ir^'^ '''-' ''-'''-  ^■■-  -^-^ 

Where  Madeline's  thoughts  were,  one  may  guess 

suppose  very  worldly-wise  young  women  will'sm  ,e 

air    w, 7. v'r .'"'*'  '  commonplace  as  a  love  af- 

alf'th         U    u^"  "  S""  ^'"'P'^*°"  f°r  Playing 
half  through  the  star-lit  night  that  her  life  Jgh^ 

be  nobler  for  the  great  love  that  had  come  to  it 

To  her  the  soul  was  like  the  glass  prism  that  she 


3oa 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


!  J  '  ■ 


used  down  in  her  studio  to  break  the  light  into  its 
seven  colors:  if  clear,  -o  much  the  brighter  the  re- 
flected light;  if  dim,  so  much  duller  came  the  sun- 
light through  the  glass. 

I  suppose  very  worldly-wise  young  women  would 
have  had  Madeline  spend  half  the  night  before  a 
mirror,  attitudinizing,  testing  which  pose  of  the  lips 
displayed  her  teeth  best  and  brought  out  the  pret- 
tiest dimples,  trying  whether  the  brightness  of  her 
eyes  shone  best  with  the  head  forward  and  the  eyes 
looking  up — just  a  rim,  a  tiny  rim  of  white  below 
the  iris — or  with  the  head  back  and  the  eyes  darting 
shafts  sideways.  I  suppose  no  worldly-wise  young 
woman  ever  did  these  things.  I  suppose,  according 
to  the  lady  paragraphists  who  write  whole  sheets 
of  newspapers  and  magazines,  pouring  out  floods, 
billows,  oceans  enough  of  advice  to  drown  the  en- 
tire sense  of  the  feminine  world  that  Madeline 
should  have  devised  pretty  flirtatious  tricks  to  lash 
Truesdale  into  a  more  explicit  declaration,  to  pique, 
to  tease  him  just  ever  so  little  with  jealousy,  to  see 
how  he  would  "take  it." 

I  suppose  no  worldly-wise  young  women  invited 
to  a  grand  reception  ever  spent  two  hours  at  a  mani- 
cure's having  their  nails  polished,  and  two  more 
hours  having  lines  massaged  out  and  color  kneaded 
in,  and  two  more  hours  having  a  wonderful  struc- 
ture of  hair  built  between  the  nape  of  the  neck  and 
the  crown  of  the  head,  and  whole  weeks  of  hours  at 
the  dressmaker's  having  themselves  tucked  and 
padded  and  squeezed  from  liature's  lines  of  grace 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION     303 

into  the  figures  designed  for  fashion  plates.  And 
I   suppose,   because   Madeline  did   none  of  these 

ha^a'dozenT"^  1'  j''  ""P''°"  '"  '  ^-^  --" 
half  a  dozen  times  before-the  white,  with  no  orna- 
ment save  the  rubies'  red  against  the  ivory  o^her 
own  wh,te  sk,n-that  she  ought  to  have  had  a  very 
woeful  time,  indeed.  ' 

To  be  sure  the  paragraphists  missed  her,  but  the 
o  d  ga  an,  .j  a  record  of  five  generations  to  hi 
red  claimed  her  from  the  first,  and  Hebden  with 
a  St,  1  active  record  next  sought  her  to  the  open  d  s 
comfort  of  the  tongues  clattering  too  loudly  about 
himself  and  Mrs.  Ward;  and,  an  officer  of  "he 
pnnce  s  retinue  led  her  to  the  supper  tables-wh  ch 

arranged  to  the  amazement  of  people  who  regarded 
her  as  altogether  selfish.  <;t,araea 

Of  course,  she  believed  that  no  one— no  one  in 
a  1  the  world-had  ....  known  such  love  aHow 
filled  h.r  life  And,  of  course,  we  smile:  we  hav^ 
heard  J.,,  before.  But,  there  were  times  when  he 
enth,.s,asm-the  rapture,  the  nearness,  the  over 
vhelmmg  consciousness  of  his  presence-gave  place 

he  hir-         r  T  =  '  ''"^"'"g  resentment'th 
Je  had  given  herself  to  such  an  abandon  of  love 

spite  o     tn^'Z    y  '^-"^^  '"  'P'"'  °^  Work,  in 
h  re-     m/h  r      '.-T   "P"'  °^  Argument-it  was 
there!     Madeline  did  not  call  this  feeling  jealousy 
any  more  than  Truesdale  had  called  his  f  ar  jeal' 
ousy.      .Jer  independence   would  not  acknowlidge 


304 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


why  her  eyes  wandered  so  restlessly  over  the  gaily 
dressed  throngs;  itV/v  her  slippered  foot  tapped  the 
waxed  floor  so  impatiently.  A  judge  and  jury  could 
not  have  convinced  her  that  she  was  looking  for 
•".ny  particular  person.  She  would  h  '.ve  said  she  was 
restless. 

As  the  guests  drifted  through  the  rooms  she  did 
not  notice  a  single  detail  of  dress,  who  wore  the 
primrose  pearls,  and  who  the  yahger  diamonds. 
All  she  saw  was  a  melody  of  color,  form,  motion — 
seeing  as  an  artist  sees — figures  flitting  about  with 
the  grace  of  garden  things;  faces  of  every  variety 
in  garden  flowers,  velvet  as  pansies,  bright  as  car- 
nations, pure  as  lilies;  gauzy,  diaphanous  forms,  ap- 
pearing, disappearing,  hovering  tike  bubbles  in  the 
sunlight;  color — color — color  like  star  rays  in  the 
purple  of  a  summer  night.  Seeing  as  an  artist  sees, 
life  was  a  garden,  gaudily  tinted  and  wind-tossed; 
but,  behind  the  bank  of  flowers,  new  voices  were 
buzzing  with  the  endless  story  of  the  old  gentle- 
man droning  of  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic. 

"Has   anyone   seen   the   Hebdens?" 

"The  Hebdens? — no!  They  are  always  late — 
conspicuously  late — part  of  their  repertoire !" 

"Yes — they  arc  here !  I  saw  them  a  moment 
ago.    Who  is  that  with  the  emeralds?" 

"I  should  think  Mrs.  Ward's  husband "  then 

the  strumming  of  violins. 

"Mrs.  Ward's  husband?  Yes — that's  all  so- 
cially!"    This  is  a  deprecating  whisper. 

"See — that  is  the  soprano  from  Paris.     Her  fig- 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      305 

Zllr^"  ""  "^  '^'  '"'''  "f  "■='"  -^'  --  i"  the 
"Hu-sh-sh!    She's  going  to  sing  I" 

objlct^"'''"'''  '  '''''"'''  "''"''  ^''■-  ^^'"^'^  ^■""''^ 

the'H^^ir--  '''  "  '"'"'  '°  ^'"«'  '^''"^  --■= 
"And,  you  know,"  the  old  gentleman  was  say- 
■ng,  the  vessel  began  to  toss-to  toss  in  the  most 
beasl'y-the  most  distu'bing-the  most  inconside'- 
wate  way." 

But  the  voices  behind  the  bank  of  lilies-  "You 
say  her  name  is  Connor?  Show  her  to  me '  Thev 
say  Mr.  Hebden  is  re.lly  caught  this  time." 

Then,  the  endless  Atlantic  story:  "Twas  more 
than^  flesh  could  stand!  Colonel  says  to  me- 
Capn  s  got  to  stop  this  infernal  boat!'  'Pon  my 
word,  he  did— right  in  mid-ocean !" 

Then,  from  the  screen  of  lilies:  "You  don't  tell 
me!  And  ,ha,  is  how  Mrs.  Ward  came  to  take 
her  up?    I  call  it  rather  smart  ....    " 

To  Madeline  it  was  as  if  a  chill  had  blown  over 
the  garden. 

Then,  the  falsetto,  boyish-man  tones:  "Pshaw- 
all  fudge!  The  girl  is  pretty!  If  Mrs.  Ward 
chooses  to  hke  her  what's  the  sense  of  dragging 
Hebden  m  and  setting  goss.p  by  the  ears?  Hebden 
takes  his  fun  where  he  finds  it!" 

Then    the   drone   of  the  pompous   story  teller: 
Lolonel  roars,  'Stop  this  steamer  and  let  me  out!'  " 


3o6 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


If  the  married  women 


"I  do  blame  Mrs.  Ward 
dangle  after  him " 

"I  call  it  a  shame!  The  girl  will  lose  her  repu- 
tation— that's  all !" 

But,  the  old  gentleman  had  pricked  up  his  ears: 
"What  the  deuce  are  those  women  chatterinf^  about? 
Souls  are  damned  for  lack  of  a  little  silence !  Bless 
my  soul — what's  society  coming  to  when  a  lot  of 
gossips  hatch  their  cocatrice  eggs  under  a  hostess' 

roof?" 

"Let  us  walk  round  the  gallery,"  suggested  Made- 
line. 

It  was  as  if  a  poisonous  breath  had  blurred  the 
fairness  of  the  garden.  She  heard  the  sing-song  of 
her  companion's  voice.  Then,  they  were  he'd  by 
the  crush. 

"Look,  there  is  the  girl!     And  see  the  rubies!" 

Then,  another  voice,  low,  modulated,  full  with 
arrogance:  "Who— is  that  young  person?"  with 
a  slur  on  the  indeterminate  designation;  and  Made- 
line found  herself  face  to  face  with  a  woman  of 
rolling,  gray  hair  and  puffy  eyes,  gazing  through  a 
gold  lorgnette.  Then  the  music;  then  the  scram- 
ble for  chairs;  and  someone  smote  the  old  gentle- 
man on  the  shoulder. 

"Ha!  I've  found  you  at  last!  Here  is  the  pro- 
gram that  Mrs.  Ward  sent  for  you.  Miss  Con- 
nor. Come,  I  have  reserved  a  place  for  you— the 
cosiest  nook,  not  too  near  the  music!"  and  Mr. 
Dorval  Hebdcn  stepped  from  a  cluster  of  palms. 
"Bless  my  soul!     What's  this?     Have  I  been 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      307 

playing  proxy  for  you,  Hob,  you  scoundrel?"  and 
the  old  cavalier  toddled  off  laughing. 

"Wonder  how  Mrs.  Ward  likes  thatf"  the  wasp- 
ish voice  behind  the  lilies  was  asking,  as  Madeline 
sank  to  a  seat  under  the  palms. 

She  barely  had  time  to  say  "Thanks  so  very  much 
for  the  medallion"  before  the  soprano  in  the  next 
room  began. 

"Ah!"  said  Hebden,  searching  her  face.  "It  is  / 
who  must  thank  you  for  accepting  in  the  spirit  I 
wished.  You  have  understood?  I  hardly  dared  to 
hope  for  that." 

Which  was  not  what  Madelln-  Connor  meant  at 
all,  but,  as  the  soprano  was  very  famous  for  a  very 
famous  temper,  a  deep  hush  fell.  With  the  waspish 
words  still  stinging,  Madeline  shut  her  eyes  to  listen. 
It  was  a  pensive  air,  a  piece  of  music,  for  once, 
set  more  to  the  burden  of  the  song  than  the  display 
of  the  singer,  breathing  the  hopeless  tragedy  of 
broken  love.  Madeline  held  her  breath.  Her  heart 
was  pulsing  in  throbs  to  the  trills  and  runs  of  the 
pure,  clear,  wonderfully  passionate  voice.  A  mist 
seemed  suddenly  to  invest  life — the  mist  of  the 
orchard  long  ago.  The  enthusiasm — the  rapture, 
the  nearness,  the  overwhelming  conscience  of  his 
presence,  of  his  love — swept  over  her  like  the  hands 
of  a  master-player  touching  tremulous  chords.  From 
her  forehead,  from  the  fiushing  and  waning  of  the 

color  in  her  cheeks,  from  the  tremor  of  her  lip= 

shone  a  light.    Hebden  saw  her  glovea  hands  lock 


3o8 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


if 


in  a  shudder,  and  Mr.  Dorval  Flebden  was  not  the 
man  to  miss  those  signs. 

The  singing  died  to  a  breath  of  silence.  There 
was  quietness,  then  hand  dapping,  and  bows,  and 
more  hand  clapping;  and  the  soprano  sang  a  skit- 
tish little  encore  that  put  the  room  in  a  hum.  The 
light-heartcdness  was  infectious.  Madeline  glanced 
carelessly  up  to  meet  a  pair  of  proud,  frowning 
eyes,  staring  through  a  gold  lorgnette.  Mrs.  Heb- 
den's  displeasure  was  so  ill-conccalcd  that  observ- 
ers were  smiling.  The  mischievous  spirit  of  the 
music  stimulated  the  girl.  She  would  punish  the 
insolence;  and,  she  spoke  to  Hebdcn  in  a  voice  that 
set  him  uttering  all  sorts  of  inanities  meaning  any- 
thing, nothing;  words  in  snatches;  less  than  words; 
ac-entuated  with  a  glance — nothings  which  he 
would  never  have  dared  if  the  music  had  not  been 
sounding  those  staccato  notes.  The  hum  became  a 
buzz.  Clubmen  jostled  past  with  an  air.used  look  at 
Hebden.  "He's  caught  in  earnest  this  time";  and, 
"girl  is  doing  perfectly  right";  and,  "servs  proud 
old  lady  right  1"  Then  the  orchestra  began  strum- 
ming. It  was  then  that  Mrs.  Ward  came  for  Made- 
line with  the  officer  from  the  prince's  retinue. 

"I  knew  she  could  not  bear  seeing  them  together 

much  longer,"  said  the  waspish  voice. 

'■***** 

It  was  after  the  supper.  Madeline  was  sitting  in 
the  archway  with  the  officer.  Some  one  leaned  over 
her  shoulder.  The  baritone  had  just  uttered  the 
first  notes,  and  the  buzz  subsided  to  whispers. 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION      309 

"Madeline?" 

It  was  Hcbdcn  in  full  view  of  art  gallery  and 
drawing-room;  and  the  foreigner  rose  to  yield  his 
place.  She  gave  a  visible  start.  It  was  the  name. 
She  had  not  meant  to  go  so  far.  She  did  not  know 
that  Hebden  ha  1  read  the  love  on  her  face  for  him- 
self and  caught  at  the  sign  as  a  drowning  man  a 
straw  to  save  him  from  the  swift  course  of  folly 
with  Another.  A  disgust  of  herself  came  over 
Madeline.  She  despised  the  part  that  she  had  acted 
under  his  mother's  arrogant  gaze.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  had  played  the  actress.  She  had 
thought  of  the  gay  life  as  a  natural,  not  a  stage, 
garden  with  paper  flowers  and  tinsel  gold  and 
dummy  souls  acting  artificial  parts.  But  Hebden's 
experience  with  other  women  misled  him. 

"Madeline,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  away!  I  want 
to  say  something  to  you  before  I  go!  My  mother 
has  decided  quite  arbitrarily  to  go  South." 

Back  came  the  rankling  whispers  ....  the 
vague  innuendos  that  said  so  little  and  might  mean 
so  much,  ...  and  such  a  sudden  anger  rushed  over 
her  that  her  gloves,  which  she  had  carried  loosely 
since  the  supper,  fell  from  supine  hands.  Again  Heb- 
den misunderstood. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked.     "You  are  trembling." 
"I  think  I'll  go,"  she  said,  rising. 
"It's   that  cursed  work,"  he   answered,   offering 
his  arm. 

To  himself  he  was  saying:  "Is  it  possible?  I 
should  not  have  told  her  so  abruptly.     I  did  not 


310 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


dream  she  could  care  ,o  mu  h.  Why  doe»  .he  ore- 
vent  metdhng  her?  Has  Mr,.  Ward  .  .  .  .'  b^at 
he  foot  of  the  ,ta,r  they  two  „,et  Mr,.  Ward, 

iriumpr'    ''"    "■""'■    "''"''"    ""'h''^    '^i'h 
"Going  •  .  .  so  .  .  .  .  soon?"  asked  Mrs.  Ward; 
but  son,eth,ng  caught  her  quick  eye ;  and,  linking  he 
arm  through   Madehne's,  she  led  the  girl  to  the 
cloak-room. 

"Madeline,  a'A«/— has— happened  ?" 
sick'^"'''"""^'"  '"''''"^'''^  Madeline,  vaguely  heart- 
I  es — tell  me — you  owe  it  to  me         " 
"I-ouie,"  interrupted  the  girl,  with' an  uncontrol- 
ablc  desire  to  laugh  cynically,  "please  don't  fuss! 
1  m  unstrung.    ^  our  Mr.  Hebden  siifl,-  m   '.   I  war.) 
to  throw  open  the  door  and  rush  into  a  fresh  wind 
whenever  he  ,s  near.     I  feel  as  King  Arthur  did 
when  dy,ng-for  God's  sake,  a  little  more  air!    Do 
go  back  to  those  people;  and  explain  to  him  I  am 
.11.    I  don  t  want  to  offend  him,  after  all  he  has  done 
tor  Budd. 

For  just  a  moment  the  two  friends  gazed  in  each 
other  s  eyes.  Then  Mrs.  Ward  kissed  the  girl 

I  wonder,"  she  said,  as  she  opened  the  cloak- 
room door,  I  wonder  u;hy  Mr.  Truesdale  did  not 
come  r 

"So  do  I,"  answered  Madeline  coldly;  but  her 
face  had  turned  to  the  maid  with  the  cloaks 

As  she  drove  away  she  could  nnt  help  feeling  the 
memory  of  Hebden  a  shadow.  The  gossip  rankled 


"So  shi'  piiintfd" 


THE  CREED  ON  EXHIBITION     311 

It  came  to  her  tha*  uts's  hard  way  must  always 
be  trodden  alone;  har  the  via  dolorosa  is  never 
illumined;  that,  whe,  v  c  facf  01  r  Calvary,  the  best- 
beloved,  the  alder-licfest,  01  ct  Tnal  destiny  are  hid- 
den by  the  enshrouding  darkness.  It  was  not  till 
long  afterward  that  she  wondered  whether  that  dark 
intuition  of  impending  disaster  were  the  emptiness 
of  her  yearnings  then  or  the  echo  of  a  cry  fromthe 
field  of  defeat. 

Plainly,   the  world  of  work  was  the  world  for 
her.    And  the  next  morning  the  Hebdens  went  South. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


THE  CRliKD  IX  ACTION 


If  you  can  imagine  the  vrath  of  Jove,  when  a 
thunderbolt  miscarried;  or  of  the  Norse  god  Thor, 
when  the  hammer  hit  his  thumb,  you  will  have  some 
idea  of  the  emotions  convulsing  the  soul  of  Sam 
McGee,^  labor  delegate,  when  he  left  Truesdale's 
office.  The  heroism  or  crime  that  always  slumbered 
in  his  eyes  suddenly  blazed  through  dilated  pupils. 
His  dream  of  Demos,  the  ,,eoplc,  the  oudawed,  the 
dispossessed,  the  disinherited  proletariat,  the  time- 
less serfs  of  that  eternally  bifurcated  democracy- 
rich  and  poor — marching  majestically  in  ordered 
ranks  to  bloodless  victory  to  the  peace  that  was  to  be 
a  triumph — suffered  sudden  check.  Demos  was  no 
longer  in  ordered  rank,  but  a  scattered  horde,  plun- 
dering, predatory,  mad  with  the  gnawings  of  hunger, 
wild-eyed  with  the  revenge  that  is  a  raw  kind  of 
j'lstice. 

Like  Ward,  McGee  had  immutable  reliance  on 
— Force;  but  it  was  Force  without  ballast,  without 
law— Force  gone  mad.  The  big  labor  leader  flung 
himself  into  the  office  of  the  Great  Consolidated 
with  such  a  whirl  of  slammed  doors  and  explosive 
intent  that  every  individual  clerk  on  the  high  desk 
31a 


THJ;  CREED  IN  ACTIOX  313 

stools  jumped  as  if  on  springs.  There  was  to  be 
no  nonsense  tlih  time.  McGee  had  the  hammer: 
he  was  going  to  strike. 

****** 
President  Ward  sat  in  the  re\olving  chair  of  his 
mner  room,  with  his  back  to  the  felted  door  lead- 
mg  to  the  general  offices.  He  was  not  thinking  of 
his  wife's  grand  reception  to  be  held  the  next  night; 
nor  did  he  hear  the  click— click— click  of  the  little 
ticker  in  the  corner  reeling  off  the  tape  record  of  the 
New  York  stocks,  of  the  world's  far-sped  commerce. 
His  cigar  was  rolling  from  corner  to  corner  of  his 
mouth,  tattered  and  mangled  from  over-much  chew- 
ing; and  the  ash-end  was  cold. 

Ward's  eyes  were  fastened  to  a  big  m-p  of  the 
world  hanging  under  the  clock.     Little  red  lines  ran 
across  the  map  from  New  York  to  Chicago,  from 
Chicago  to  St.  Paul,  from  St.  Paul  to  Seattle,  from 
Baltimore  to  St.  Louis,  from  St.  Louis  to  San  Fran- 
cisco.    Ward's  mind  was  busy  stretching  out  more 
red  lines  across  the  Seven  Seas  of  the  world— like 
the  arteries  that  carry  life-blood— from  Paris  across 
Russia,  from  Pekin  across   Manchuria,   from  New 
Orleans  down  Panama   way  through   Brazil.     He 
was  just  stretching  the  lines  through  Africa  to  the 
great  interior,  where  "some  lecturing,  globe-trotting 
chap  had  said  human   beings  were  thicker  to  the 
mile  than  sand  on  the  seashore,"  when  there  was  a 
soft  click. 

A  push,  the  felt  door  opened  softly,  closed  softly, 


3H 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


and  a  tread  as  noiseless  as  a  cat's  came  stepping 
softly  across  the  carpet. 

When  a  man  has  conquered  a  continent  with  two 
parallel  iron  rails  called  a  railroad,  and  forged  the 
links  of  that  iron  zone  with  new  cities  whose  ex- 
istence his  railroad  has  created;  when  he  has  crossed 
the  swamps  that  all  engineers  said  could  not  be 
crossed,  link  by  link,  loop  by  loop,  thirteen  trestles 
to  the  mile,  mile  after  mile,  like  a  twisted  chain — 
forward  here,  bai.k  there,  to  get  footing  for  a  bridge, 
round  to  that  moraine  of  rocks  for  the  other  foot 
of  the  bridge,  forward,  back  again,  but  always — 
o)i;  when  he  has  spanned  the  mountains  which  all 
men  said  could  not  be  spanned,  going  clean  through 
the  rock-bed  of  what  stood  in  the  way,  twenty  tun- 
nels to  the  mile,  climbing  what  he  could  not  tunnel, 
five  feet  climb  for  every  hundred  feet  grade,  loop- 
ing what  he  could  not  climb,  ten  snow-sheds  to  the 
mile,  with  the  avalanches  thundering  overhead  and 
the  mountain  gorges  roaring  below;  when  he  has 
dropped  into  the  quiet  waters  of  the  Pacific  the  peb- 
ble that  he  picked  up  back  on  the  shores  of  the  At- 
lantic; when  he  has  done  all  these  things  in  the  flesh 
and  is  mentally  doing  more — conquering  new  worlds 
— he  does  not  like  small  obje:ts  to  obtrude  on  his 
big  projects. 

"Mister — Ward?"  It  was  a  soft  whisp,/,  half 
lisp,  half  hiss.  Mr.  Saunders,  as  we  know,  was  not 
well;  and  from  very  good  reasons  now  leaned  for- 
ward with  both  hands  on  the  president's  desk,  his 


THE  CRLJD  [\  ACTION  315 

head  sunk  on  his  chest,  his  chest  sunk  from  concavity 
of  manhood. 

"iMcCJee,  the  labor  delegate,  is  outside.  He  has 
ordered  a  strike  in  the  Truesdale  mines.  He  is  de- 
termined to  see  you." 

"Well,  didn't  you  pay  him  for  what  he  did  in  the 
Truesdale  mines?"  Ward's  cigar  rolled  ail  the  way 
across  his  mouth. 

"I  paid  him  beforehand;  but  the  fellow  is  de- 
termined— determined.  Says  that  cut  of  ten  per  cent, 
in  wages  has  to  be  reconsidered  within  forty-eight 
hours  or  he'll  order  a  stiike  in  onr  mines " 

"Pooh,"  interrupted  Ward,  not  turning  his  head 
and  rolling  the  cigar  back  to  the  other  side  of  his 
mouth. 

Obadiah  caught  his  breath;  a  clammy  sweat  oozed 
over  his  white  forehead. 

"But,"  he  whispered,  "McGee  says  he  has  evi- 
dence of  crookedness  about  tunneling  into  Trues- 
dale's  mines — in  fact,  hints  at  blacRmall!  He  says 
we've  got  to  meet  the  union  within  forty-eight  hours 
or  he  orders  on  a  strike  and  throws  the  evidence 
into  court!" 

Ward  came  face-round  with  a  bounce. 

"Tell  him  to  order  on  the  strike,"  he  said,  -'and— 
the  courts — be — dam"-^d!" 

Obadiah  ran  like  a  hare. 

The  felttd  door  opened  again  and  Budd  McGee, 
gorgeous  in  gold  braid  and  buttons,  marched  in, 
clicked  his  heels,  stood  erect,  and  doffed  his  cap. 

"Mr.  Saunders  says  to  tell  you  Mister  Rawlins 


3i6 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


left  for  New  York  on  the  express  flyer,"  and  Budd 
clicked  his  heels,  turned  round,  put  on  his  cap,  and 
marched  out. 

Ward  flung  his  cigar  in  the  grate.  His  eyes  half 
closed.  He  rose,  walked  over  to  the  stock-ticker 
and  ran  the  thin  tape  through  his  fingers.  Then 
he  rang  up  the  telephone,  not  the  one  on  his  desk, 
but  thp  one  in  a  private  box  at  a  corner  of  his 
office,  asking  for  connection  with  the  New  York 
branch  of  the  Great  Consolidated.  When  he  went 
into  the  telephone  box  he  shut  the  door.  When  he 
came  out  his  hand  was  full  of  little  slips  of  yellow 
paper  on  which  he  had  jotted  certain  figure-;  Hs 
stood  before  the  grate  studying  these  slips,  one  bv 
one,  carefully,  slowly,  mentally  masticating  every 
figure.  Then  he  lighted  a  match  and  slowly,  one  by 
one,  holding  the  slips  in  his  hand  till  the  flame  almost 
singed  his  fingers,  burned  each  piece  of  paper.  Ward 
touched  the  electric  button  on  his  desk.  Again  the 
felted  door  opened  and  again  the  felted  tread 
crossed  the  floor. 

"Look  here,  Saunders,  I've  been  figuring  a  flyer 
at  the  Truesdale  mines." 

Mr.  Saunders  looked  decidedly  relieved.  The 
bent  chest  straightened  perceptibly. 

"And  that  inside  stock  hasn't  all  come  out,"  added 
Ward;  which,  being  interpreted,  meant  •  it  Ward's 
juggling  with  the  stock  of  a  rival  company  had  not 
frightened  so  many  of  the  Truesdale  stockholders 
into  selling  as  Ward  had  planned. 

"And  we've  got  to  force  it  out,"  declared  Ward 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  3,7 

emphatically.     "We've  got  the  price  hammered  to 
forty-e.ght!     We've  goi  to  have  this  thing  settled 
before   the    stri'.e    is   on!      One   fight   at   a    time  I 
VV  e  ve  got  to  have  the  Triiesdale  mines  off  the  bat' 
!wo    days'    warning— did    McGee    say?      Well— 
we'll  be  ready  for   him!      As  things   are  no-v   we 
may  have  more  stock  than   Iruesdale;  we  may  have 
enough  to  vote  him  out  and  force  them  to  come  in; 
but  he  may  ha\e  more  stock  than  we  have!     I  don't 
like  the  look  of  Rawlins  going  off  in  such  a  hurry 
I  he  only  thing  to  do  is  to  force  some  of  those  fel- 
Unys   who  are  holding  back  to  come  out!     Now, 
we'll  let  the  gang  go  on:  don't  want  it  known  who 
IS  behmd  that  gang:  so  we'll  keep  on  with  the  room 
traders;  and  they'll  whack  the  bottom  out  of  Trues- 
dale's  mines  to-morrow!     In  half  an  hour  I'll  have 
a  special  train  for  you!     You're  to  go  on  the  floor 
yourself  to-morrow !    You'll  find  your  orders  there ! 
Aow,  remember,  no  matter  whether  >ou  find  your- 
self up  against  our  gang  or  not— you're  to  follow 
those  orders;  and,  Saunders?" 
Saunders  turned  at  the  door. 
"Don't  rupture  your  conscience  pretending  to  be 

pious!     It's  business!     Those  orders are... 

to — the — letter." 

****** 
Who  does  not  know  a  gray  day  in  New  York? 
Fog-drift,  woolly  and  blurred,  blankets  the  narrow 
gorge  of  the  high-lined  streets.  Here  and  there, 
tier  on  tier,  like  steps  from  roof  to  roof,  to  mid- 
hea^en,    huge    massed    masonry— broken,    jagged. 


318 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


towering,  shapeless — butts  through  the  mist-like 
mountain  ramparts.  East  and  west,  in  a  rush  that 
fills  the  quivering  streets  with  the  whirling  sigh  of 
a  wind,  bellow  the  hurrying  locomotives.  From  the 
far,  muffled  distance  comes  the  roar  of  traffic, 
mingled  with  the  faint  shriekings  of  the  fog  whis- 
tles, where  the  ferries  plow  cautiously  through  the 
haze. 

Rawlins  left  his  hotel  on  upper  Fifth  Avenue, 
crossed  a  block  west  to  Broadway  and  boarded  a 
subway  car.  Presently,  as  Trinity  clock  pointed  the 
hour  of  eleven,  Rawlins  left  the  car  and  turned 
down  that  narrow  caiion,  that  hemmed-in  river  of 
activity  known  as  Wall  Street.  The  swing,  the 
movement,  the  tremendous  current  of  onward  rush- 
ing life,  caught  him  like  a  maelstrom  as  he  hurried 
down  the  narrow  way. 

In  his  own  mind  he  was  morally  certain  that  he 
understood  the  relation  of  the  Truesdale  mines  to 
the  Great  Consolidated.  Truesdale  owned  in  a 
solid  block  one-fourth  of  his  company's  stock.  Ward, 
through  some  manipulation  of  the  market,  had 
gained  possession  of  another  fourth.  As  long  as 
the  general  shareholders  endorsed  Truesdale — gave 
him  their  proxies  for  the  election  of  officers — he  was 
strong  enough  to  oppose  the  Great  Consolidated ; 
but  among  a  body  of  scattered  shareholders — wom- 
en, professional  men,  brokers  and  bankers  who 
juggled  with  marketable  stocks  for  the  margins, 
whether  the  price  went  up  or  down— were  always 
some  who  could  be  frightened  into  selling  at  low 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  319 

prices,  or  tempted  into  selling  by  high  ones.  That 
was  the  danger  to  Truesdale:  the  small  holders 
might  scuttle  on  a  panicky  market  and  Ward's  gang 
of  floor  traders  could  snap  up  the  offers. 

Rawlins  was  fairly  sure,  too,  of  exactly  what 
Ward  had  been  doing.  The  announcement  of  thi- 
lawsuit,  the  threat  of  r;  labor  strike,  the  refusal 
to  join  the  Great  Consolidated,  had  caused  the 
first  decline  in  Truesdale's  mines.  Backed  by  Ward 
a  Kang  of  floor  traders— free  lances,  the  better  to 
conceal  Ward's  hand — had  made  a  set  on  the  Trues- 
dale mines,  daily  selling  small  blocks  at  lower  and 
lower  prices.  Whether  they  owned  the  stock  so 
sold  did  not  affect  the  pressure  to  push  down  the 
Truesdale  mines  stock.  They  might  either  be  "sell- 
ing short" — contracting  to  deliver  what  they  would 
later  buy  at  a  lower  price;  or  "matching  orders" — 
B  making  sales  to  C  for  which  there  was  a  private 
understanding  there  should  be  no  delivery,  a  pro- 
ceeding contrary  to  rules,  but  impossible  to  detect. 

In  the  words  of  the  perspicuous  press:  "the  bears 
had  piled  on  to  help  Ward  sell"  ;  meaning  that  Ward 
had  subtly  conveyed  the  impression  that  he  con- 
sidered Truesdale  Mines  such  a  poor  investment  he 
was  marketing  his  lines  through  independent  brok- 
ers: this  was  "to  get  rid  of  the  stuff  before  the  slump 
lu-rame  known."  That  was  the  way  knowing  fel- 
lows, so  full  of  market  tips  they  let  a  few  out  at 
every  person  whom  they  met,  explained  "the  bears' 
activity  in  the  Truesdale  Mines."    It  was  such  very 


310 


TUF   \F\V   n\\v\ 


"poor  stuff"  Ward  wanted  "to  focil  his  out  to  the 
market  before  the  market  caught  on." 

So  much  for  street  talk,  curdsto-ie  tips,  the  news 
reports.  But  Rawlins  knew  if  a  jrenuine  buyer,  in- 
dependent of  "the  gang"  appeared  on  the  market 
the  bears  must  stampede  before  the  bulls,  or  show 
their  hand.  In  the  language  of  the  Hi)or :  "the  shorts 
must  run  for  cover,"  actually  deliver  the  stock  they 
had  sold  by  either  buying  it  on  the  open  market— 
which  would  force  up  the  sagging  price,  or  by  bor- 
rowing it  froin  actual  hohlers  at  a  cost  of  twenty  or 
thirty  dollars  a  day  for  each  hundred  shares  bor- 
rowed. 

Plainly  »he  ..ly  thing  to  stop  the  drop  in  Trues- 
dale  Mines  was  for  "the  bull  to  get  the  bear  on 
his  horns."  That  was  Rawlins'  view.  He  had  spent 
the  night  talking  it  over  with  the  Xew  York  broker 
who  usually  represented  Truesdale  on  the  Hoor; 
and  now,  taking  advantage  of  Truesdale's  posses- 
sion of  a  seat  on  the  Exchange,  Rawlins  himself  ap- 
peared. It  will  be  noticed  that  Rawlins'  aim  was 
"to  support  the  market,"  force  the  price  up  by  buy- 
ing all  the  stock  offered;  while  Ward's  aim  was  to 
compel  the  independent  shareholders  to  sell,  to  com- 
pel them  by  the  manipulation  of  which  secret  orders 
were  to  be  given  Saunders. 

Just  outside  the  Exchange,  fronting  Broad  Street. 
Rawlins  paused.  Massive  stone  structures,  ten,  fif- 
teen, twenty  stories  high,  towered  to  the  gray  sky  on 
all  sides.  On  one  building  the  tiny  form  of  a  work- 
man on  scaffolding  eighteen  tiers  above  the  street 


THE  crei;d  in  action        3 J, 

swung  against  the  wall  to  every  gust  of  wind 
Against  the  gray  cloud  the  man  was  a  mi<lgct;  a 
floating  speck,  tossed  by  the  whirl  of  blind  forces 
that  reared  their  terrible  monuments   here  in   the 

'T.u'  ■.;■■■  *°'^'"  "^  ^""^'^  ''"■■f>'!"K  tl";  »'"wers 
"t  the  Heavens,  a  confusion  of  tongues,  a  roaring 
of  mulftudmous  voices,  a  trampling  of  multitudin- 
ous teet,  ...  a  thundering  as  of  a  mighty  tide, 
■  •  .  a  human  tide,  .  .  .  through  the  dark,  hollow 
caverns  of  an  Eternal  Sea.  An<l  here,  in  the  midst 
of  the  roaring  tide,  the  multitudinous  voices,  the 
thundering  diapason  of  the  World  of  Work,  stood 
he  ca  m-taccd  temple  with  the  Grecian  pillars  and 
fretted  carMng.s-the  Te,„ple  of  Traffic,  the  New 
lork  Stock  I-xchangc. 

Inside  it  was  one  of  the  gray  days  too,  the  still- 
ness before  storm,  when  men's  nerves  turn  the  raw 
edge  up  and  faces  look  ashen.     Nothing  was  doing- 
nnd  nothing  is  a  very  expensive  business  for  brok- 
ers, who  have  hea^  y  dues.     Traders  lounged  round 
the  posts  of  the  floor,  where  stocks  were  marked 
^>"cl  little  tickers   reeled  off   endless  miles,   endless 
sing-song  of  tape:  but  the  traders  did  no  trading 
Numbers  Hashed  in  vain  against  the  indicator  board 
Healers  were  present;  but  they  were  not  dealing. 
I  hey  strolled  listlessly  from  post  to  post,   or  sat 
on  the  circular  benches  round  the  posts  chattering 
comparing  opinions,  reading  papers,  perhaps  "figur- 
ing a  deal.  '     Even  the  presiding  chairman  leaned 
orward  against  the  rostrum  railing  above  the  floor, 
face  on  hand,  brooding,  half  asleep. 


322 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


There  were  the  stridulating;  calls,  the  harsl; 
counter-calls  of  many  tongues;  the  monotonous  rush 
.  .  .  rush  ....  rush  .  .  .  with  a  boom  of  the  wires; 
the  sharp  buz  ...  7-  ...  z  of  the  telephones;  the 
rumble  and  crash  and  roar,  like  the  impact  of  a 
wave  from  the  tidal  traffic  beating  the  walls  out- 
side; the  lightfooted  running  of  swift,  gray-coated 
messengers  flitting  from  telephone  booths  to  posts, 
from  posts  to  booths  with  a  skating  slide  over  the 
tiled  floor  as  they  fetched  up  to  avoid  collision  with 
someone  else;  the  unceasing  snowfall  of  scrappy 
paper  fluttering  to  the  floor;  the  beat  .  .  .  beat, 
tramp  ....  tramp  of  countless  feet  .  .  .  here,  there 
.  .  .  everywhere  .  .  .  criss-crossing  in  an  endless 
maze;  but — there  was  no  trading! 

As  yet  it  was  as  if  the  air  were  surcharged  with 
electricity  that  would  presently  cxploile  a  mine.  The 
traders  were  nervous,  restless,  fidgety.  They  felt 
the  market  just  as  you  may  feel  electricity  without 
seeing  it.  There  was  suppressed  expectation  witl- 
expressed  alertness.  Something  was  going  to  hap- 
pen.    What  was  it?    No  one  could  tell. 

"Money  is  tight,"  said  one. 

"Something  going  to — snap  1" 

"Heard  about  the  war?" 

"Yes:  that  was  playing  the  deuce  over  in  Paris!" 

"Balkan  War?  .  .  .  Nonsense;  Not  that  at  all! 
Too  much  'faith  cure'  business  in  the  money  pool 
to  try  and  'boost'  public  confidence  into  buying! 
Pah!     That  way  of  'boosting'  up  the  market  al- 


THE  cri:i:d  in  action 


3»3 


ways  ended  in  a  bust!  .  .  .  That  was  right  .... 
sure  ....  seen  it  hits  of  times!" 

This  from  a  little  clean-shaven,  jumping  broker 
with  a  (German  accent  and  coal-black  hair  and  a 
hooked  nose  and  black,  dancing  eyes,  like  points  of 
glowing  light,  who  kept  bouncing  from  thi.-  groups 
round  one  post  to  the  groups  round  another  post, 
shouting  out  "Trucsdale  Mines  ....  forty-seven, 
seven-eighths  ....  eights  .  .  .ei^jhts  .  .  .  eights!" 
the  words  drowning  in  a  chaos  of  raving  voices,  the 

little  trader  clawing clawing  ....  clawing 

the  air  with  up-Hung  arms  till  coat  sleeve  slipped 
back  to  shirt  elbow;  ....  jumping  ....  jumping 
jumping  .  .  .  clear  oft  the  floor  at  each  word- 
but  no  one  at  the  Trucsdale  Mine  post  took  his 
offer.  Neither  Truesdalc  Mines  nor  anything  else 
was  moving;  and  the  little,  jumping  broker  had  to 
content  himself  with  slipping  up  behind  another 
trader  of  enormous  girth  and  lifting  the  fat  man 
feet  with  one  rush  and  a  hug. 
'  Meester  Rawlins,"  this  as  Truesdale's 
mi.  .)  I  .  .  .led  on  the  blackboard  and  Truesdale's 
manager  came  on  the  floor.  "Hullo,  Meester  Raw- 
lins!   Glad  to  see  you  !    Whad's  up?" 

"Great  Consolidated  is  only  thing  up  that  I  see," 
returned  the  gray-whiskered  nian;;ger  dryly,  pass- 
ing across  the  floor  to  a  group  of  older  men,  the 
European  e-xchange  brokers,  who  stood  by  them- 
selves. 

The  lift  e  broker  suspended  his  jumping  to  study 
the  receding  back  of   Truesdale's  manager.  Then, 


i 


324 


THE    NEW    ny  !N 


bouncing  back  to  his  post,  he  began  humming, 
"Oh — om — look — at — the — gall — er — ee?" 

"How  do  you  feel,  Shortie?"  called  another 
trader. 

"Bearish,"  chaffed  the  little  foreigner,  beginning 
to  bounce  again  and  claw  the  air,  shouting,  in  a 
chaos  of  raving  yells  that  absorbed  half  his  words, 
Truesdale  Min " 

"Price  ought  to  bear  some  remote  relation  to 
value,"  one  of  the  older  men  was  saying  as  Rawlins 
appeared. 

"Yes  ....  that's  what  I  mean  to  say  ....  smash! 
It's  bound  to  come  ....  and  this  fake  manipulation 
find  itself  .  .  .  ." 

"Gouging,"  interrupted  another. 

"...  will  find  himself  up  against  American  com- 
mon sense,"  sarcastically  nodded  another. 

"That's Ward,  every  time  I     Markets  his 

own  stock  first  ....  breaks  the  pool  to  show  his 
faith  in  it;  but,  if  I  know  the  American  public, .  . .  ." 

"Whas's  up  with  Truesdale  Mines,  Rawlins?" 
some  one  asked. 

"Down,"  sententiously  responded  the  manager, 
with  eyes  looking  from  an  ambush  of  brows  as  ex- 
pressive of  thoughts  as  two  gray  pebbles. 

"Eh?  .  .  wh'd  .  .  he  .  .  .  say?"  bounced  out  the 
ubiquitous  little  jumper. 

"Search  .  .  .  me,"  returned  another  of  the  young 
traders.     "Something  is  going  to  happen!" 

Suddenly,  like  the  bursting  of  a  water  dam,  a  roar 
went  up   from  the   floor,   and  a  thousand  yelling 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION 


3^5 


traders  stampeded  in  a  blind  rush  for  the  entrance. 
A  cotton  operator,  who  had  bought  a  seat  on  the 
exchange  and  for  the  first  time  came  on  the  floor, 
had  just  crossed  the  threshold.  Instantaneously 
pent  nerves  found  vent  like  exploding  steam.  A 
huge  bale  of  cotton,  done  up  hay  fashion,  dumped 
itself  in  the  middle  of  the  floor;  and;  in  less  time 
than  it  had  taken  the  operator  to  cross  the  entrance, 
he  was  bundled  through  the  bale  to  his  neck,  fes- 
tooned with  cotton  combings  like  the  wig  of  a 
Santa  Claus,  and  hustled  over  the  floor — round — 
round — round  a  central  post  in  a  futile  chase  after 
his  hat,  which  was  being  furiously  foot-balled  by  ten 
opposing  details  of  "bulls"  and  "bears."  The 
"bulls"  put  "the  bears"  to  rout.  The  hat  went  down 
in  the  melee  of  scattered  cotton;  and  the  solemn, 
synchronous,  metallic,  striking  of  Trinity  chimes 
sent  the  cotton  operator  off  the  floor  with  his  tie 
under  one  ear,  his  coat  the  worse  for  cotton,  and 
his  mood  as  uproarious  as  the  noisiest. 

****♦♦ 

It  was  after  luncheon  that  the  surcharged  expec- 
tations seemed  to  concentrate  in  gathering  groups 
of  traders  round  the  Truesdale  Mines  post.  Gray- 
coated  messenger  boys  dashed  hither  and  thither, 
round  groups,  through  groups,  into  groups,  and  back 
again   to   the   telephr  le   booths.      Excited  brokers 

shouted  "boy" "boy,"  and  sent  other 

messengers  scudding  with  cipher  orders  on  slips  of 
paper.  Imperceptibly,  the  visitors'  gallery  had 
filled,  and  men  were  leaning  eagerly  over  the  balcony 


326 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


fascinated  by  the  confused,  perpetually-moving  med- 
ley of  raving  men  tearing  at  each  other  on  the  floor. 
The  railroad  brokers  ceased  calling  "C.  P.,  .  ." 
....  "N.  P.,"  .  .  .  "B.  &  O.,"  with  sharp,  mo- 
mentary reference  to  their  slips  of  paper.  Other 
brokers,  as  well  as  the  foreign  exchange  traders,  had 
gathered  expectantly  round  the  Truesdale  Mine  post. 
The  gray-haired  chairman,  from  his  eery  look-out  on 
the  wall,  had  wakened  up  and  also  leaned  forward 
intent  on  the  gathering  faces  below. 

The  Exchange  was  no  longer  a  temple  where  a 
nation  paid  its  worship  to  the  God  of  Traffic.  The 
floor  had  become  a  battleground,  confused,  shifting, 
driven,  with  the  hum  swelling  to  a  roar;  the  roar 
rolling,  reechoing,  reverberating  from  tiled  floor  to 
high  roof,  from  wall  to  wall,  out  from  the  calm, 
columned  front  to  the  choked  gorges,  and  canons, 
and  jammed  river-ways  of  commerce,  where  the 
hurrying  Street  paused  ....  paused  to  listen  I  It  was 
as  if  two  enormous  tidal  waves  of  Power  met  in 
shock,  in  recoil,  in  quivering  fury  of  renewed  assault, 
and  assault  yet  again,  many-throated,  pitiless,  wolfish 
with  a  sort  of  desperate  greed  I  A  thousand  men 
leaped  upon  the  circling  group  round  Truesdale 
Mines  post,  whooping  ....  shouting  ....  gesticulat- 
ing, with  the  roar  of  an  inarticulate  fury,  upflinging 
a  sea  of  arms!  In  the  center  of  the  group,  jumping 
....  jumping  ....  jumping,  clear  from  his  feet 
to  bring  him  level  with  the  shoulders  of  the  other 
traders,  one  hand  thrown  up,  palm  out,  throwing 
.  .  .  throwing  .  .  .  throwing,  as  if  to  hurl  the  offered 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  327 

stock  in  the  faces  of  the  bidders,  shouting  .... 
shouting  ....  shouting  in  a  raving  chaos,  was  the 
httle  trader  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  German  ac- 
cent. 

"He's  a  bear!  He's  jumping  on  the  Truesdale 
stock!  Watch  him  whack  'im  down!"  one  of  the  gal- 
lery said;  and  if  the  "gang"  hostile  to  Truesdale 
were  playing  a  game,  "matching  orders,"  "faking 
sales,"  "jollying  prices  down,"  they  vere  playing  it 
enthusiastically.  Half  the  floor  was  deceived  and 
joined  the  raid.  Nothing  could  withstand  the  ava- 
lanche.   Truesdale  Mines  went  down down 

....  down!  It  was  a  safe  game:  the  traders 
could  buy  up  at  a  lower  price  what  they  were  now 
selling  at  a  low  price.  When  the  little  German  of- 
fered Truesdale  Mines  a  thousand  throats  yelled 
themselves  hoarse  offering  and  bidding  lower 
lower!  And,  when  he  out-offered  them  lower  .... 
lower  ....  the  buyers  pounced  on  him  with  such 
a  rush  that  he  was  carried  off  his  feet  clear  across 
the  floor  to  an  adjoining  post.  A  nod  ....  a  word 
....  a  crook  of  the  finger,  and  Truesdale  Mines 
had  changed  hands  at  a  lowering  figure;  and  the 

little  foreigner  was  at  it  again;  ....  jump 

J^^P head  back  ....  eyes  snapping  .  .  .  . 

right  arm  flinging  defiance  at  the  buyers'  heads  with 
stentorian  yells. 

TK„  "!,„„.,..  ^^g|.g  having  it  all  their  own 


Alert 


way. 


a  tiger  ready  to  leap,  the  gray  eyes  be 


neath  the  gray  ambush  of  brows 
as  pebbles,    Rawlins   waited   till    the 


expression! 
grating 


yell 


328 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


bounced  over  the  heads  of  the  vociferating,  pushing, 

clamoring  bedlam,  " forty-five,  and  an  eighth 

.  .  .  eighth  .  .  .  eighth,"  with  a  jump  to  each  word! 
In  one  tigerish  bound  the  gray-haired  manager  was 
in  the  center  of  the  fray,  scattering  the  wolves! 
His  arms  shot  out  straight  as  a  bullet  to  the  mark; 
and,  like  a  rifle  crack,  rang  out  the  word  .... 
"Sold!"  The  next  moment  Rawlins  himself  was  the 
center  of  the  group,  arm  upthrown.  *ingers  clutched, 
one  finger  for  each  eighth,  palm  turned  in,  signify- 
ing that  he  was  buying,  and  the  whole  room  flinging 
....  rushing  ....  hurling  upon  him  with  the  fanged 
ferocity  of  snapping  wolves !  He  would  buy,  would 
he?  ....  He  would  "boost"  the  market  up?  .  .  . 
Would  he?  ...  He  would  protect  Truesdale  Mines 
by  taking  all  that  was  offered?  .  .  .  The  "gang"  ut- 
tered a  whoop  ....  a  yell  ....  a  stentorian, 
ringing  hulloo  .  .  .  and  were  on  him,  open-moutlied. 
Hats  went  off  in  the  bedlam.  Coats  were  almost 
torn  from  men's  shoulders,  little  men  thrown  from 
their  feet,  the  surging  group  slithering  ....  slid- 
ing, with  a  rush  back  nnd  a  lunge  forward,  a  roar, 
a  crash,  a  rumbling,  resonant  detonation  that  rever- 
berated from  floor  to  roof,  and  shook  the  street; 
while  traders  all  but  hurled  each  other  out  of  the 
crush  ....  tramping  ....  stamping  ....  breath- 
less, to  pounce  with  their  offers  on  the  gray-haired 
manager  in  the  center! 

The  newspapers  afterwards  said  that  Truesdale 
Mines  jumped  from  forty-five  to  a  hundred  in  half 
an  hour.    The  truth  is — the  jump  was  to  one  hun- 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  329 

dred  and  fifty.    Men  who  had  bought  at  lifty  trebled 
money  in  a  breath;  lost  their  presence  of  mind;  lost 
the  sense  of  earth  under  their  feet;  bought  again, 
sending  the  price  with  a  rush  to  two  hundred;  sold 
again;  and  bought  again  till,  in  the  language  of  the 
floor,  "the  biggest  fool  made  the  biggest  money  be- 
cause he  plunged  worst."     It  was  plain  that  battle 
royal  was  on  between  two  factions.     Rumors  flew 
in  a  whirlwind.     Now  it  was  Ward  fighting  Trues- 
dale;  now  it  was  Truesdale  fighting  some  foreign 
manipulator  who  was  opposed  to  Ward;  now  it  was 
Truesdale  and  Ward  united  against  some  big  bank- 
ing interest.     As  the  reader  knows,  the  battle  was 
Truesdale  against  Ward;  but  what  convulsed  the 
floor  was  the  plain  fact  that,  whoever  held  stock  in 
the  Truesdale  Mines  could  make  a  fortune  by  bid- 
ding the  two  factions  against  each  other.     Men  saw 
the  chance  to  possess  a  fortune  by  accident,   and 
tumbled,  trampled,  stampeded  one  another  to  seize 
that  chance  in  the  person  of  Rawlins  buying  all  that 
was  offered. 

Then  two  things  happened  that  always  happen 
m  such  battles. 

Always,  where  one  "gang"  is  "hammering"  prices 
down,  are  free  lances,  who  take  their  cue  from  the 
others  without  reason  and  gamble  on  chance,  "sell- 
ing short,"  hoping  to  buy  low.  When  the  price 
jumped  these  traders  "ran  for  cover,"  bidding  furi 


ously 


up 


up 


up,  to  get  the  stock 


they  had  contracted  to  deliver They 


have  it  at  a  los 


must 


at  any  price;  or  go  bank- 


330 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


rupt,  begging  for  the  buyers'  mercy;  and  they  bid 
in  yells,  desperate,  determined,  wolves  trapped 
....  "shorts  squeezed"  ....  better  bid  at  what 
would  be  a  small  loss  than  a  total  loss  .  .  .  and 
up  ...  up  ....  up  they  bid  against  Rawlins;  but 
always  Rawlins,  with  the  gray-pebble-eyes  cool  and 
shining,  overtopped  their  bid  one  point  ....  two 
.  .  .  ten  ....  twenty  at  a  jump!  Trucsdale  Mines 
touched  five  hundred !  The  brokers  "short"  must 
announce  suspension  or,  to  meet  their  sales,  borrow 
stock  at  a  charge  that  meant  ruin. 

Such  a  rise  had  been  known  only  twice  before 
on  the  Exchange  during  ten  years.  For  weeks  the 
newspapers  were  full  of  stories  about  fortunes  made 
and  lost  in  an  hour;  bank  clerks  who  had  chanced 
to  hold  a  few  shares  of  Truesdale  Mines  and  sold 
for  a  fortune;  bank  clerks  who  tried  to  do  likewise 
with  other  stocks  and  other  people's  money,  and 
went  to  penitentiary;  actresses  who  had  received 
presents  of  Truesdale  Mines  at  forty-eight  and  sold 
at  four  hundred  and  forty-eight;  brokers  who  an- 
nounced their  failures  for  a  week  afterward  with 
the  fizzle  of  detonating  firecrackers;  and,  especially, 
of  one  Canadian  premier,  who  had  spent  his  life 
and  his  fortune  on  politics  only  to  be  discarded  by 
his  party  and  who  unluckily  was  in  mid-ocean  on 
the  day  when  the  sale  of  his  thousand  Truesdale 
shares  might  have  netted  him  half  a  million. 

A  quiet  smile  creased  the  face  of  the  gray-whisk- 
ered manager,  jotting  the  last  transaction  on  his 
writing  pad.     He  was  sure  ....  so  sure  .  .  .  that 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  33, 

the  manipulators,  "the  bluffers"  were  caught; 
that  they  had  no  shares  to  dehver;  ....  that  they 
could  not  buy  Truesdale  Mines  at  any  price;  that 

they  were  crushed "done  for,  in  their  own 

trap.  I  hey  must  go  bankrupt  or  settle  on  Trues- 
dale s  terms.  The  smile  creased  again,  and  the  peb- 
bly eyes  gleamed.  The  next  time  they  tried  "to 
whack"  Truesdale  Mines  down  they  would  think 
twice  I  Rawlins  felt  sure  that  he  had  Ward  by  the 
throat.  He  had  bought  more  stock  than  all  Ward 
held. 

There  was  a  breathing  space.  That  is,  messengers 
dashed  over  the  floor  as  if  pursued.  Men  shouted 
like  maniacs.  Onlookers  wiped  the  sweat  from  their 
faces. 

Then  the  second  thing  happened. 

Messages  had  been  sent  spinning  by  wire  and 
note  and  hand  to  every  human  being  known  to  own 
one  share  of  Truesdale  Mines.  And  now  answers 
came  back  from  holders,  who  but  an  hour  before 
had  thought  themselves  ruined  by  the  low  prices 
ordering  traders  to  sell  .  .  .  sell;  and  every  offer 
was  borne  down  with  the  wild  rush,  the  whoop,  the 
yell,  the  stamping  and  trampling,  the  hurling  of 
the  solid  impact  of  a  thousand  men,  fighting  to  bid 
for  the  stock  that  meant  fortune  or  ruin!  And 
always,  with  the  tigerish  leap,  Rawlins  was  among 
the  wolves,  foremost,  highest,  victorious  in  his  bid- 
ding! There  were  no  "bears"  now!  The  "bears" 
had  been  gored  to  the  death  on  the  horns  of  the 
bulls."    There  were  no  "lambs"  now!    The  little 


33» 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


speculators  had  scampered  off  bleating,  frightened  I 
There  were  only  the  wolves  being  scattered  by  the 
one  little,  tigerish,  gray-whiskered  man  with  the  sand- 
papered voice  and  the  pebble  eyes  and  the  ambush 
brows.  Rawlins  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow  as 
he  jotted  d(  vvn  that  last  bid.  They  were  only  a  few 
shares — probably  some  clerk's  or  actress — but  they 
had  cost  a  thousand  each. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  Mr.  Saunders  walked  to 
the  floor  ....  Ha!  He  had  come  to  the  rescue! 
.  .  .  Ward's  block  of  Truesdale  Mines  hurled  at 
the  floor  would  avalanche  any  price  to  the  bottom- 
less pit!  ...  .  The  "gang"  flung  themselves  on 
Saunders  with  rebellowing  hurrahs  that  shook  the 
building,  that  reverberated  to  the  roof,  that  roared 
out  to  the  quivering,  listening  Street!  Obadiah 
paused,  glanced  at  the  clock  pointing  near  closing 
time,  and  affected  a  mild,  supercilious  scorn. 

"Fools — much  they  know  Tom  Ward,"  he  was 
thinking. 

He  halted,  raised  his  head  and  his  hand,  and 
shouted  an  offer  of  "sell!" 

Five-hundred  bellowed  their  bid;  but  still  he  held 
back.  A  thousand  and  one  ...  a  thousand  and 
ten  ...  .  eleven  hundred!  The  small  bidders 
dropped  away.  It  was  Rawlins,  low-voiced,  cool, 
gray  eyes  expressionless,  who  threw  up  his  arms 
....  a  nod;  and  again  he  quietly  jotted  down  "the 
deal"  on  his  pad.  This  happened  three  times  with 
the   same    result,    except   that   the    other    bidders 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  333 

dropped  out  of  the  game.    It  was  Rawlins  vs.  Saun- 
ders. 

Evidently  there  was  no  more  Truesdale  Mines 
stock  "to  come  out."  Rawlins  had  drained  Saunders 
and  sat  quietly  down  under  the  post.  Saunders  sep- 
arated himself  from  "the  gang"  who  had  vocifer- 
ously demanded  in  language  more  picturesque  than 
polite  "what  in  blank  he  meant  by  boosting  the  price 
up"  on  them?  The  secretary  thrust  his  hands  in 
his  pockets  and  walked  meditatively  up  and  down 
the  floor  beneath  the  gallery,  with  occasional  pen- 
sive glances  at  the  faces  of  the  visitors.  There  are 
several  ways  of  being  self-conscious.     One  way  is 

an  excessive  affectation — with  a  yawn  thrown  in 

of  indifference:  that  was  Saunders'  way.  Small 
traders  walked  unsteadily  away  from  Truesdale 
Mines  post,  trying  to  hide  their  losses.  Boys  scur- 
ried yelling  across  the  room.  Paper  scraps  show- 
ered down  in  a  snowfall.  Room  traders  had  scat- 
tered to  the  different  posts,  when  a  messenger  rushed 
sliding  to  Rawlins  with  a  telegram.  There  was  a 
pricking  up  of  flagged  interest.  Only  Saunders  af- 
fected to  see  nothing,  with  a  wreathing  glow  that 
was  almost  a  sneer  creeping  over  the  wan,  world- 
weary  features.  Men  glanced  sharply  to  Truesdale 
Mmes.  Had  Rawlins  yet  another  move  in  the 
game? 

"Seems  to  me  you  have  things  all  your  own  way, 
Mr.  Rawlins  ?  You  can  squeeze  those  fellows  pretty 
tight?    The  stock's  all  in  your  hands!" 


334 


THE    NKW    DAWN 


!i!^i 


"I  hope  80,"  mildly  answered  the  sand-papered 
voice,  as  Rawlins  broke  the  telegram. 

If  the  truth  were  told,  e\ery  nerve,  every  fiber, 
every  muscle  was  tense,  trembling,  elate  with  pride, 
with  victory?  He  had  saved  the  firm!  He  had 
beaten  Ward  at  his  own  game  in  an  open  field. 
When  "the  gang" — which  meant  Ward — came  to 
settle,  they  would  have  to  beg  terms  with  Truesdale 
for  the  stock  which  they  had  sold  and  could  not 
deliver!  The  smile  creased  again;  and  Kawlins 
read  the  telegram.  Just  at  that  moment  Saunders 
halted  in  his  parade,  and — furtively,  sidewise  as  a 
weasel  perforce  must  look — glanced  at  Truesdale 
Mines  post. 

This  was  the  telegram,  not  even  in  cipher. 

Directors  failed  to  meet.  AH  have  scuttled  and 
sold  on  rising  price.  Be  careful  at  what  figure  you 
try  to  squeeze  sellers.    Ward  holds  stock  for  gang. 

T. 

Rawlins  blinked.  Always  cautious,  timorous,  a 
terrible  fear  gripped  at  his  heart.  Had  Truesdale's 
directors,  who  had  "scuttled"  and  sold  on  the  rising 
price,  sold  to  Ward?  He  read  the  telegram  again. 
He  could  not  grasp  it.  The  strain,  the  terrible 
strain,  tha;  'lad  keyed  up  heart  and  mind,  nerves 
and  flesh,  seemed  suddenly  to  snap !  He  felt  him- 
self tremble  ....  turn  coldl  Then  Ward  might 
have  the  stock  to  deliver.  Truesdale's  directors 
had  been  found  as  the  price  went  up  and,  tempted 
by  the  dazzling  fortune — had  sold  out!     Truesdale 


THE  CREED  IN  ACTION  335 

now  owned  all  his  company's  stock — but  at  what 
price?  A  price  that  would  multiply  Ward's  gains 
on  "the  deal"  by  a  hundredfold,  a  price  that  would 
bankrupt  Trucsdalc  when  he  paid  for  the  game. 

Over  the  room  fell  a  mist,  a  gathering  darkness. 
The  rumble,  the  roar,  the  crash,  the  multitudinous 
voices,  the  multitudinous  feet,  the  march,  the 
trample,  the  thunder  of  traffic  ....  faded  .... 

^•"fred grew  faint,  rolled  away  like  a  folding 

scroll.    The  roar,  somehow,  grew  fainter,  farer,  like 
an  echo  of  reality.    Rawlins  looked  toward  the  chair- 
man.   There  was  110  chairman ;  only  a  glazed  dark- 
ness; with  motes  of  white   paper  fluttering  .   . 
fluttering  down  1 

Suddenly  over  the  the  pandemonium  of  traffic  fell 
a  hush  ...  a  silence  ...  a  fear;  .  .  .  widening, 
spreading,  rippling  from  group  to  group,  as  if  the 
cold  hand  of  an  Invisible  Terror  noiselessly  touched 
each  man!  A  woman  in  the  gallery  had  uttered  a 
low  cry,  pointing  with  petrified  gaze  where  Rawlins 
sat  I 

He  had  straightened  out  rigid,  stiff,  and  was  slip- 
ping from  the  bench  to  the  tiled  floor.  The  chair- 
man rose,  bending  over  the  railing.  He  did  not 
need  to  strike  his  gavel.  Messenger  boys,  as  if  by 
magic,  stood  motionless;  and  a  circle  of  startled 
faces  had  surrounded  an  open  space  about  the  Trues- 
dale  Mine  post.  Then  some  of  the  men  turned  their 
faces  quickly  away  with  a  blur  across  what  they  saw. 
First  one,  then  another,  then  all  heads,  uncovered  in 


33< 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


utter  silence.     The  little  foreign  trader  bent  down 
with  lips  that  had  turned  blue  whispering: 

"Great  Gott dis  man is 

deadi" 

*»*♦•* 

There  was  the  measured  march  of  floor  porters: 
and  a  ladder,  on  which  had  been  thrown  an  over- 
coat, cut  through  a  gap  in  the  silent  circle.  There 
was  a  measured  marching,  and  the  body  had  been 
carried  out  with  another  coat  over  the  face. 

Then  the  bedlam,  the  crash,  the  rumble,  the  roar 
of  resonant  traffic  broke  bounds  once  more. 

The  little  foreign  broker  stooped  to  pick  up  a 
telegram  that  had  fallen  from  the  dead  hand.  He 
read  it  and  tore  it  up;  but,  as  the  gavel  struck  the 
gong  sharp  to  the  minute  of  closing,  he  remarked 
to  Saunders  passing  out: 

"You  worked  that  mighty  well  I  Truesdale's 
caught,  all  right.  He's  caught  tight!  We've  got  his 
scalp  I" 

***♦♦♦ 

News  of  the  battle  reached  Ward  as  he  was  dress- 
ing for  his  wife's  reception. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THE  MOMENTUM  THAT  PUSHES  US  FORWARD 

If  this  record  were  concerned  with  a  complete 
record  of  Truesdale's  life,  not  a  few  grave  facts 
might  be  set  down  of  how  he  met  the  blow  that 
struck  his  fortune  down  in  the  Stock  Exchange  when 
Rawlins  died  Hghting  at  the  Truesdale  mine  post. 

When  undeserved  evil  strikes  like  a  bolt  from 
the  blue  one  of  four  things  may  happen:  A  man 
may  tight  and  conquer,  entering  into  that  best  of  all 
peace,  the  peace  that  is  a  victory;  or,  he  may  fight 
and  fail,  crushed  to  the  melancholy  belief  that  des- 
tiny is  malevolent;  or,  he  may  flee  in  servile  fear, 
entrusting  his  faith  to  lying  platitudes,  like  the  os- 
trich that  shuts  his  eyes  and  thinks  to  hide  by  thrust- 
ing her  head  in  sand — a  sort  of  God's  will  be  done 
resignation  to  the  devil;  or,  he  may  reason  that, 
since  evil  triumphs,  evil  is  safest,  and  so  go  over 
bodily  to  the  enemy.  When  this  is  done  by  a  man 
we  call  it  turpitude;  by  a  woman,  defilement. 

The  first  thing  Truesdale  did  was  to  settle  with 
"the  squeezed  shorts,"  the  free  lance  brokers  un- 
connected with  Ward,  who  had  contracted  to  de- 
liver stock  which  could  not  be  bought  at  any  price. 
A  few  of  these  went  voluntarily  into  bankruptcy 
337 


338 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


in  order  to  begin  again  with  a  clean  sheet;  but  the 
majority  compromised  with  Truesdale.  This  saved 
him  paying  the  exorbitant  price  Rawlins  had  bid  for 
their  stock;  saved  the  banks  that  had  backed  these 
brokers  from  failure;  and  established  credit  for 
Truesdale  at  these  banks.  With  this  credit  and  the 
security  given  on  his  mines,  he  was  able  to  pay 
Ward  the  price  which  Rawlins  had  bid  when  Saun- 
ders had  tried  to  break  the  market.  Ward  made  a 
fortune  out  of  what  the  papers  called  "the  deal"; 
and  Truesdale  Mines  were  encumbered  with  debt; 
but,  except  for  a  few  odd  shares  of  stock,  such  as 
those  of  the  Canadian  premier  who  had  been  in 
mid-ocean  when  the  battle  took  place,  Truesdale 
now  owned  all  the  shares  of  his  mines.  By  selling 
his  yacht  and  horses,  mortgaging  the  Rookery  where 
his  offices  were,  and  giving  up  his  apartments  at  the 
Metropole  he  was  able  to  meet  the  interest  of  his 
heavy  borrowings  and  continue  to  enjoy  the  expen- 
sive privilege  of  a  seat  on  the  Stock  Exchange. 
This  was  the  fact  that  troubled  Ward.  He  had 
hoped  Truesdale  was  off  the  field.  The  bears  may 
pull  the  bull  down ;  but,  if  the  bull  gains  breathing 
space  for  wounds  to  heal,  he  may  charge  again  with 
lowered  horns. 

Truesdale's  next  move  was  with  the  labor  unions. 
He  had  learned  his  lesson.  The  world  of  events  is 
the  final  test.  The  ultimatum  of  fact  revises  theory 
in  letters  of  blood.  In  this  struggle  no  man  could 
stand  apart.  Each  must  choose  sides.  Truesdale 
chose  sides.    He  sent  for  McGee ;  they  compromised. 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD  339 

Truesdale  signed  the  union  scale  of  wages,  which  at 
once  averted  the  .trike.     McGee  met  the  recogni- 
tion by  not  insisting  on  the  exclusion  of  non-union 
men      And  he  worked  like  a  demon.     He  passed 
weeks  at  the  mines  without  coming  to  the  city;  and 
weeks  m  New  York  without  a  run  home;  and  months 
without  seemg  Madeline  Connor.     At  first,  he  had 
written  letter  after  letter  to  her  declaring  his  love. 
I  hese  letters  he  destroyed  unsent  in  a  fury  of  self- 
contempt.    He  would  not  seek  sympathy.    He  would 
win  first  and  then  know  the  peace  that  is  victory  or 
die  trying  to  win.    He  would  not  bow  supine  before 
the  Strong  Power.    He  vould  become  stronger  than 
that  Strong  Power.     Though  he  was  not  a  sym- 
pathy-seeker-the  most  sapping  of  all  vampires- 
there    IS    a    suspicion    that    Mr.    Jack    Truesdale 
plumbed  the  bottom  of  some  very  black  depths-  for 
It  was  at  this  period  that  he  confided  two  items  to 
his  note-book.    The  first  was  this : 

If  there  is  no  justice  here,  how  can  we  expect  any 
hereafter?    If  we  don't  find  a  live  God  in  realS 

The  second  was  this: 

It's  the  blast  of  the  north  wind  makes  the  pine 
grow  straight.  It's  got  to  take  tighter  grip,  find 
deeper  roots,  or— snap  1  ^   ^ 

All  this  sounds  very  simple— plain  sailing  on  a 
summer  sea,  a  paved  road  of  easy  up-grades.    It  did 


340 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


I 


not  work  out  so.  He  could  laugh  afterward;  he 
could  not  then.  After  he  had  paid  his  fare  from 
the  mines  down  to  New  York  frequently  the  balan'-e 
of  cash  on  hand  would  not  have  bought  a  newspaper. 
One  night  he  had  been  delayed  so  long  with  his 
broker  that  he  missed  his  home  train.  By  extraor- 
dinary effort  they  had  gathered  enough  money  to 
pay  the  money  due  next  day.  Truesdale  had  left  the 
checks  with  the  broker;  it  occurred  to  liim,  as  he 
watched  the  rear  car  of  the  missed  train  receding, 
that  he  would  have  to  solve  the  question  of  spend- 
ing the  night  in  town.  He  could  have  borrowed  or 
gone  to  a  hotel  on  credit;  but  small  borowings  and 
small  unpaid  b-  si  bills  are  Lad  signs — worse  than 
big  borrowings  and  big  debts — when  suspicious 
creditors  are  watching  a  doubtful  debtor  with  lynx 
eyes.  His  watch  he  had  already  sold;  and  he  had 
neither  maiden  aunts  nor  married  cousins  in  New 
York.  As  he  turned  from  the  Grand  Central  Sta- 
tion he  recollected  that  he  had  not  change  enough 
for  street  car  fare.  Truesdale  passed  the  night 
"looking  for  a  man"  in  the  waiting-room  of  the 
station.  At  least  that  is  what  one  of  the  porters 
told  a  sleuth  detective  who  had  been  tracking  him 
for  hostile  brokers. 

Other  nights  he  spent  walking  slowly  through 
the  dim,  half-lighted  East  Side,  where  men  and 
women  flit  bat-like  through  the  dusk  with  ribald  song 
and  harlot  mirth  from  flashy  saloons.  Here  he 
learned  how  "the  other  half  lives."  Once,  down 
Cherry  Hill  way,  two   footpads   presented  them- 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD    341 

selves  at  a  dark  corner  without  credentials.  If  he 
had  had  a  pocketbook  to  defend  he  might  have 
struck  out  with  both  fists;  but  the  humor  of  thf 
situation  was  piquant  and  he  laughingly  held  up 
both  hands.  With  an  oath  the  footpad  mumbled 
out  that  he  "guessed"  Truesdale  was  "not  the  party 
they  d  bin  layin'  fori"  Truesdale  said  "he  guessed 
not.  The  footpad  said  "biz  was  bad."  Truesdale 
said  he  "had  found  business  very  bad";  and  the  two 
went  off  muttering  that  "it  was  enough  to  discourage 
men  earn'  an  honest  livin'." 

It  was  before  the  first  quarter's  interest  fell  due 
that  Truesdale  was  hardest  pressed.  He  had 
worked  all  day  in  New  York  and  now  remembered 
that  he  had  forgotten  all  three  meals  and  that  his 
meals  the  day  before  had  consisted  of  a  glass  of 
beer  with  some  crackers.  It  is  at  this  stage  that  so 
many  strugglers  in  the  metropolitan  battlefield  lose 
their  grip  on  life.  They  exchange  the  beer  for 
whiskey,  despair  for  the  hallucinations  of  a  stimulat- 
ing drug. 

He  was  taking  a  short-cut  from  Wall  Street  to 
one  of  the  East  Side  ferries  when  he  looked  up  and 
noticed  the  sign  of  a  free  lodging  house  to  which 
he  had  yearly  sent  a  check.  The  next  moment  Trues- 
dale was  inside  shaking  hands  with  the  matron,  who 
led  him  to  a  little  private  table  reserved  for  patrons 
visiting  the  house,  and  who  all  the  while  poured  out 
a  voluble  stream  of  welcome:  she  was  so  glad  to 
see  Mr.  Truesdale;  his  check  had  been  such  a 
help;  they  hoped  he  would  continue  his  contribu- 


342 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


jiii 


tions;  wouldn't  he  stay  a  night  and  have  a  meal,  just 
to  see  how  things  were  conducted?  He  said  he 
would.  In  going  the  rounds  he  felt  a  shock  of 
petrifaction  run  from  his  hair  to  his  feet  when  an 
arm  struck  his  shoulder  and  a  bi  iff  voice  exclaimed: 

"Hullo,  Truesdale!  I  didn't  know  you  patron- 
ized this  sort  of  thing?" 

Truesdale  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  noted 
Wall  St.  eet  plunger. 

"Same  to  you,'"  he  retorted  tersely. 

The  plunger  looked  at  Truesdale;  Truesdale 
looked  at  the  plunger.  Then  both  men  roared  with 
laughter. 

"Shake,"  said  the  plunger,  extending  his  right 
hand. 

"It's  like  this,"  he  explained,  walking  to  the  end 
of  the  corridor  with  Truesdale:  "Matron,  God  bless 
the  dear  old  soul,  always  been  wanting  me  to  come 
and  see  what  they  do  with  our  money.  My  wife's 
up  at  59th  Street:  keeps  the  social  end  going,  you 
know,  dinners,  suppers,  dresses,  that  kind  of  thing: 
thinks  if  she  doesn't  appear  it  would  affect  my  brok- 
erage business.  She's  right,  too — it  would.  If 
clients  knew  I  had  been  skinned,  they'd  stampede. 
People  don't  bother  my  wife  with  bills;  but  it's  get- 
ting so  darned  ho*:  up  at  the  59th  Street  hotel  for 
me  I  want  to  keep  out  of  sight  till  we  get  our  deal 
through.  I  owe  'em  too  much  for  them  to  squeal  till 
they  get  some  of  it;  but  I'm  not  at  home  just  now," 
and  the  plunger  laughed. 

Six  months  later  the  plunger  had  paid  his  debts 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  1  ORWARD    343 

and  sailed  for  Europe  with  his  wife.  In  the  morn 
ng  the  „,atron  hoped  Mr.  Truesdale  hadTound 
honed^r  -t-  actory.  M.  Truesdale  l„ta,  ' 
hoped  hat  the  Angel  of  Records  took  note  of  the 
matron's  unseeing  eyes 

^     *****  * 

.  ?"'  to  Madeline  Connor  this  sudden  reserve  car 
ned  nun.b.ng  blight.  fFhy  did  he  not  write ?  /^Iv 
had  he  not  come  to  see  her?  //'/,,  had  he  led  her 
on  by  seem,ng  to  take  their  mutual  love  as  a 
foundation     or  conduct   and   then-stepped   back" 

LJ  tdllr  '"  ""'."'"'^  """'^'^  'y  an'avowal  of 
love   and   not  meet   that  avowal   halfway?      She 
had  read  the  accounts  of  the  Stock  Exchange  battle 
^^ome  of  the  unsubsidized  organs  had  gfown   re 
I.g.ous  and  declared  that  men  like  Ward  a'nd Tru    - 
dale,  who  deranged  the  commerce  of  the  couZ 

l^S'::t%Lt^"^^--^'^H=-ei?s 

Then  the  dual  nature  came  up  in  Madeline  Con 
nor:  one  nature,  full  of  love,  devotion  faith  h.n 
honor,  fighting  another:  jeal'ous,  s^pi^i  ^^'.etS  ! 
fu  ,  hard,  angry,  cynical,  capable  of  vindictive  h"e 
There  were  times  when  her  love  of  him  f  I 
against  her  hate  of  him;  whershe  el  'Ts  ?"£ 
could  not  endure  the  susnen.:P    ft,  5 


344 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


maidenliness  to  the  winds,  seek  him,  go  to  him, 
demand  explanation  and  proof  of  the  truth.  The 
wound  was  not  that  he  had  failed  her— she  told 
herself.  It  was  that  he  seemed  to  fall  below  her 
estimate  of  him.  But  her  common  sense  steadied 
her.  If  she  had  been  a  fool  before  love  came,  she 
would  probably  have  become  a  greater  fool  now, 
and  thrust  Self  across  the  directness  of  the  man's 
Purpose;  but  the  common  sense  that  had  guided 
calm  weather  now  piloted  storm.  Being  in  an  agony 
of  doubt  she  did  nothing— nothing  but  what  women 
may  always  do — suffer  in  silence;  and  in  the  silence 
those  famous  words  used  to  come  back:  "The 
wound  thou  doest  me  I  can  forgive;  but  the  wound 
thou  doest  thyself — never!" 

The  break  with  Truesdale  drew  her  closer  to 
Mrs.  Ward.  Her  little  journey  in  the  gay  world 
had  disgusted  her  with  tinsel.  Hereafter  she  would 
seek  individuals,  not  masses  of  individuals.  Best  of 
all,  she  would  seek  the  art  to  which  she  had  set  her 
life's  Purpose.  The  little  journey  in  the  gay  world 
also  had  its  effect  on  the  art  dealer,  who  loaned  her 
the  studio.  He  thought  in  terms  of  the  dollar  bill 
and  had  but  one  ambition— the  patronage  of  what 
he  called  "swells."  With  a  desire  to  use  Madeline 
Connor  to  attract  trade  he  requested  her  to  move 
her  studio  to  the  front  or  public  part  of  the  shop. 
Madeline  at  once  gave  up  the  studio  completely. 
It  was  her  first  experience  of  womanhood  being  used 
as  a  trade  quality.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
mauled  by  coarse  thumbs,  as  if  her  ideals  were  be- 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD    345 

ing  caged,  trapped,  degraded  to  a  trade;  as  if  her 
art  were  beating  helpless  wings  against  iron  bars 
of  necessity.  At  worst,  she  could  always  pawn  the 
rub.es.      Meanwhile   she   thought   of   accepting  an 

r  M  ^°«°  ^V'  ^°'^'  ^"^  ^he  passed  much  time 
with  Mrs.  Ward. 

When  mid-winter  gayety  lulled  into  Lent  they 
up^"]  '?,  '■":|i°g«her.    That  is,  they  lounged  with 

Paolo  or  Cyrano,"  or  "Sonnets  from  the  Portu- 
guese,  or  Omar,"  upside  down  on  their  laps. 
Later  when  a  peripatetic  lady  lecturer,  who  knew 
less  about  philosophy  than  attudinizing  her  own 
hne  figure,  but  with  a  few  catchwords— "esoteric," 

subjectivt,  •   "mentality,"   "law   of  mental   attrac- 
tion —gave  an  address  on  mental  science,  Madeline 
and  Mrs.  Ward  took  to  reading  misty  authors  of 
the  German  thought-shops.     If  the  truth  must  be 
told,  the  leaves  in  most  of  the  books  were  not  cut 
ret  they  had  a  curious  effect,  those  books.     One 
evening,  when  they  had  lumbered  through  a  heavy 
argument  to  the  effect  that  the  Christian  rule  of 
conduct  was  more  a  guide  than  an  iron  law,  "cate- 
goncal  imperative  for  the  guidance  of  the  imma- 
ure,     the  book  called  it-Mrs.  Ward  threw  down 
tfte  volume  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

less'/  ^"""^  ''^'"'^''  *''°"^'"  """'"  '^"^  ^''^•^'"led  rest- 
"I  don't  sec  what  difference  it  makes,"  said  the 
girl.  If  you  don't  follow  some  guide  you  co  to 
smash  over  a  ledge;  and  if  you  don't  obey  laws  you 
get  hurt  I"  ' 


346 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Just  this  difference,"  interposed  Mrs.  Ward, 
with  her  face  alight,  "that,  if  you  found  a  better 
guide  than  the  old  one,  you  would  be  perfectly 
justified  in  following  it." 

"And  what  better  guide  has  the  world  found, 
Lou?" 

"Love,"  answered  Mrs.  Ward  triumphantly. 

What  it  was  the  girl  could  not  have  told,  but 
her  instincts  felt  the  presence  of  an  alien  influence. 
She  answered  something  about  "love  being  the  ful- 
filment of  law,  the  fruit  of  the  blossom" ;  but  her 
voice  was  a  far  echo  beating  vainly  against  the  tu- 
mult of  her  companion's  warring  emotions.  They 
left  the  books  lying  where  the  gardener  turned  the 
hose  on  them  and  walked  arm  in  arm  to  the  other 
end  of  the  conservatory. 

"Madeline,  what  do  you  think  of  my  husband's 
creed?  Should  one  bow  to  it,  or  resist  it,  or  flee 
from  it — or  what?" 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  said  Madeline  simply. 

"Supreme — Selfishness!  The  Triumph  of  the 
Strong!  The  Great  Blond  Beast!"  The  words 
came  with  a  venom  of  loaining. 

They  passed  under  an  arch  to  the  vinery  before 
Madeline  spoke. 

"IVhy  did  you  marry  him?"  she  asked. 

"Why;  '  The  animation  changed  to  supercilious 
scorn.  "Yes — why?  Why  do  mothers  marry 
daughters  to  rich  men  every  day?  Why?  For  an 
establishment.  It's  one  way  of  earning  a  living; 
But  it  is  a  hard  way,  not  an  easy  one.  I  thought  it 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD    347 

meant  horses,  jewels,  trips,  houses;  and  so  it  has," 
she  added  bitterly.  "I  have  my  bargain:  that  is 
the  ghastly  hatefulness  of  it.  I  can  almost  fancy 
that  I  hear  the  devil's  laugh.  I  have  my  bargain; 
and  It  s  worse  than  empty." 

They  lingered  before  a  rose  that  climbed  the 
arch  leadmg  to  the  vinery.  The  girl  picked  a  whit. 
blossom  and  uould  have  put  it  on  her  companion's 
lace  front;  but  Mrs.  Ward  gently  pushed  the  flower 
back. 

"Not  for  me,"  she  said.  "Put  it  on  yourself! 
I  tell  you  I  loathe  this  life!  I  tell  you  I  hate  it' 
I  tell  you  I  can't  stand  it  much  longer!  You  don't 
understand.  You  don't  know  what  it  means  to  have 
sold  yourself,  for  to-day  and  to-morrow  and  eter- 
nity,  .  .  .  ."  her  voice  became  unsteady. 

They  did  not  speak  again  till  they  were  in  the 
art  gallery,  sitting,  as  usual,  Madeline  in  the  chair, 
Mrs.  Ward  among  the  cushions  on  the  floor  with 
her  face  resting  on  the  girl's  knee. 

"Lou,  you  frighten  me  sometimes!  You  have 
done  it  again  to-day!  i  ou  g.'ve  me  the  feeling  of 
something  terrible  impending.  A  little  while  ago 
you  said  that  love  might  supersede  duty.  Now  you 
say  that  you  can't  stand  your  lif ;  much  longer.  Do 
you  know  what  all  that  might  mean?" 

Mrs.  Ward  sat  up  with  her  hand  over  her  eyes. 
A  flush  mantled  slowly,  darkening  from  her  neck  to 
her  hair,  burning  in  deep  spots  on  her  cheeks. 
"I  can  guess,"  she  said  ironically,  mockery  playing 


348 


THK    NEW    DAWN 


about  the  curling,  thin  lips,  the  drooping  cast  of  the 
proud  eyes. 

"How  do  you  know  this  may  not  lead  you  to 
worse  unhappiness?"  asked  Madeline  Connor  un- 
abashed. "You  did  not  think  that  you  would  ever 
rebel  against  this  life  when  you  married  for  money. 
How  do  you  know  that  the  blind  forces  may  not 
use  your  discontent  to  lead  you  over  a  precipice?" 

The  sunlight  came  sifting  through  the  colored 
glass  of  the  gallery  roof,  red-shafted,  an  aureole 
around  the  woman's  face.  Madeline  thought  that 
destiny  in  the  person  of  a  man  might  readily  risk 
the  precipice  for  such  a  face.  What  was  its  charm? 
A  perfection  of  feature?  Other  women  had  that: 
so  had  fashion  plates.  I'ride,  melting  into  gentle- 
ness; gentleness,  charged  with  fire;  beauty  hovering 
on  the  brink  of  vague  danger;  love,  unspent,  crushed, 
if  crushed,  the  more  fragrant;  love,  if  roused,  that 
might  dare  the  very  destinies;  perhaps,  too,  though 
Madeline  Connor  was  not  experienced  enough  to 
know  this — the  strange,  perennial  charm  that  be- 
witched Greek  heroes  of  old,  the  charm  of  the  soul, 
when  lights  play  with  shadows,  when  weakness  wars 
with  right,  aspiration  with  impulse. 

"You  are  very  beautiful,"  the  girl  half  whispered. 
"How  can  anyone  help  loving  you?" 

"It  isn't  that,"  retorted  the  woman  passionately. 
"He  does  love  me;  but  it's  in  the  wrong  way." 
Then  Mrs.  Ward  looked  up  with  a  quick  smile. 
"You  draw  out  the  best  that  is  in  me."  Then,  hark- 
ing back  to  the  old  self  pity,  "How  do  I  know  that 


MOMENTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD    349 

I  may  not  go  over  the  precipice?"  she  repeated  ab- 
sently.   "The  truth  is — /  do — not — carel    There 

don't  look  so  shoclccd !  Nothing  could  be  worse 
than  this  life!  I  have  something  to  suggest.  Tom 
says  there  is  a  wonderfully  early  spring  out  in  the 
Rockies.  He  is  going  out  in  our  car  to  some  meet- 
ing or  thingamabobs  in  San  Francisco  late  in  May. 
He  says  while  he  •>  at  the  meeting  we  may  have  the 
car  to  run  up  through  the  Rockies,  if  we  like.  Don't 
go  off  to  old  New  York  in  the  lovely  spring.  Come 
with  me — do  come!  I  shall  get  into  mischief  if 
you  don't!  I  shan't  have  anyone  to  preach  me  dear, 
gentle,  severe,  cold,  north-wind,  Puritan  sermons! 
Do — come." 

****** 

So  Tom  Ward's  private  car  sped  across  the 
checkerboard,  patched  farms  of  the  Kast;  across  the 
Middle  West,  beginning  to  chali.  off  her  prairies  into 
the  little  fields;  on — on — to  the  Far  West  of  the 
heaving,  fenceless,  endless,  rolling  prairies,  with  the 
wild  rose  clutching  the  tie-banks  of  the  railroad  and 
the  railroad  dwarfed  to  the  proportion  of  a  link- 
worm  crawling  through  immensity.  Somewhere  west 
of  the  Mississippi  Ward  left  his  wife  and  Madeline- 
his  train  fading  in  a  smoke-wreath  over  the  southern 
sky-line,  where  cars  and  engine  dropped  like  a  ship 
over  the  edge  of  the  sea;  their  train  tearing  with 
the  speed  of  furies  on — on,  north  and  west,  pur- 
suing a  flat  trail  of  track  that  looped  and  dipped 
and  wormed  its  way  through  cuts  till  it,  too,  dropped 
over  the  rolling  sky. 


350 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


Madeline,  like  many  eaiterners,  had  expected  to 
find  the  prairie  as  flat  as  sand,  ugly  as  mud,  and 
monotonous  as  a  washed  slate.  What  she  saw  was 
an  ocean  of  billowing  green,  bending  and  rippling 
to  the  wind  like  waves  to  the  run  of  invisible  feet, 
with  here  and  there  a  lonely-eyed  immigrant,  looking 
out  from  his  tented  wagon-top,  lonely-eyed  but  alight 
with  hope.  The  girl  felt  as  if  she  had  been  flung 
out  an  atom  in  infinity.  There  was  room — room; 
room  for  hope,  for  endeavor,  for  success,  without 
I  lie  trampling  of  one  struggler  under  the  feet  of  an- 
other. Her  pulses  throbbed  to  the  glory  of  the 
boundless  world  flashing  in  panorama  past  the  car 
windows.  Mrs.  Ward  sat  back  like  one  in  a  dream, 
unseeing,  untouched,  self-centered. 

I'or  two  days  the  train  followed  the  prairie,  palpi- 
tating with  a  veiled  mist  of  light  all  day,  quivering 
under  the  sheeted  lightning  at  play  in  a  primrose 
flame  among  the  heaped  cloud-banks  of  the  faintly 
lighted  west  all  night.  The  third  day  Madeline  put 
on  a  hat  "with  screw-nails" — as  she  told  Mrs.  Ward 
— and  entered  the  mountains  sitting  on  the  cow- 
catcher of  the  engine.  The  ubiquitous  tourist  was 
already  at  Banff.  String  bands  were  strumming, 
globe-trotters  talking,  lone  fishermen  solemnly 
posted  on  parade  below  the  white  fret  of  the  falls, 
and  middle-aged  folk  with  time  to  think  about  them- 
selves limping  breathless  and  rheumatic  up  and 
down  from  the  baths.  Madeline  took  out  her  paints 
for  a  picture  of  the  white-tipped,  purple-folded  am- 
phitheater that  opens  through  a  gap  just  beyond 


MOMFXTUM  PUSHES  US  FORWARD    .3;, 

the  falls;  l,u.  Mrs.  Ward  was  rcstlc.    She  wantcl 

o  g.,  where  (here  were  fewer  people,  ,he  said;  and 

the  car  was  shmued  up  to  the  F.ake  in  the  Clouds 

oarhT  v'^x^  "'%^'''  "■"'''  '■"'  ^''""«  fhc  bridle 
path  behmd  Mount  Temple,  lo,,:;,;,^  ,,. .  ,  ,„.  saddle- 

back  between  two  peaks  in'  -  -hat  •.vondcf.'  oortr, 

known  as  Paradise  ValL .       Lp  from  the  ,orRe 

sheer  as  the  drop  of  a  s,.,,,c,  .,ur,e  ,  „<,l,..;c  ,  s.gh  .i 

with  the  s.lt  of  a  thousand  .laors,  l„  ,hc  deep 
shadows  I,kc  a  silver  thread  aero.,  a  ..„m  bank- 
the  moss  a  forest  of  pines. 

"This  is  too  good  for  paints,"  cried  the  girl  "I 
am  gomg  to  photograph  it  mentally  so  I  can  com- 
pare  ,t  w,th  Heaven  some  day,"  and  she  seated 
herself  on  the  ledge  of  rock  that  projects  over  the 
gorge  m  a  block  of  masonry  beyond  the  vertical 
wall. 

As  the  sun  struck  the  snowy  helmet  of  Mount 
1  emple  a  thousand  rivulets  leaped  to  life  and  began 
the.r  mad  race  from  ledge  to  ledge,  thin,  silver, 
wind-blown  waterfalls  that  set  the  valley  echoing 
with  a  pattering  as  of  fluttering  leaves.  The  silent 
heights  became  vocal  in  the  sunshine  with  the  grand- 
est of  all  music,  the  voic:  of  many  waters  calling  to 
each  other,  faint  and  far,  like  the  echoes  of  wander- 
'ng  souls.  Here  and  there  the  sun's  ^eat  loosened 
a  rock  from  the  icy  edge  of  a  green  Racier  on  the 
upper  tiers  of  the  precipice;  and  down  it  crashed, 
bounding  with  increasing  impetus,  clattering  with 


35* 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


I  i 


rocketing  echoes,  smaller,  fainter,  till  it  was  out  of 
sight  in  the  depths,  out  of  hearing  in  the  distance. 
"I  don't  understand  why  you  like  it."  Mrs. 
Ward  drew  back  from  the  edge  with  a  shudder. 
"It's  like  another  world— it's  so  cold,  pitiless!" 

"Look!"  cried  the  girl,  raising  her  hand.  "Look 
at  the  clouds  with  the  silver  wings;  and  the  sunlight 
scales  off  that  rock  like  sparks  from  steel." 

"But  that  is  just  it,"  interrupted  the  other,  im- 
petuously. "There  is  such  a  dreadful  hard  fierceness 
in  this  sort  of  beauty!  You  feel  as  if — as  if  some- 
how— oh — I  don't  know  how  to  say  it — human  na- 
ture were  impotent  against  physical  might." 

She  fell  silent,  finding  a  place  for  herself  on  a 
lower  slab  of  rock.  The  mists  slashed  slant-wise 
across  the  sun,  filling  the  v..i!i7  with  shadows,  with 
a  somber  hushing  of  the  waters. 

"It  depresses  me!"     Mrs.  Ward  laid  her  arm 
across  the  girl's  knee. 
"Why?" 

The  rush — rush — rush  of  the  torrent  came  up 
faint  as  a  sigh.  The  sough  of  the  wind  among  the 
tossing  pines  might  have  been  an  inarticulate  cry. 
Mrs.  Ward  shivered. 

"Listen,"  she  began  in  a  tremulous  whisper. 
"You  made  me  promise  if  ever  .  .  ."  she  bit  her  lip 
irresolutely,  then  hurried  on  impulsively  .  .  .  "Don't 
stop  me!  I  must  tell  it!  You  once  asked  me  Iiok 
I  could  keep  from  going  over  the  precipice,  hoiv  I 
could  stop  in  time.  I  thought  if  I  ca.ne  away  out 
here  with  you  I  might  forget,  I  ..ilgnt  get  away 


MOMENTUM  PUSHKS  US  FORWARD    3,-3 

from  it;  but  I  tell  you-it  is  useless!     Take  your 
arm  away  from  me!    Do  not  touch  me!"    A  shud- 

but,  Madelme_,t  ,s  „o,_my  husband;  and-ifJ 
^ve-be-wrong,  I  have  „ot  stopped  in  time!" 
Her  gloved  hand  clenched.  Her  eyes  were  dry  Teal- 
gorge  "'  ^'""^  '^''^'^'^  ^°^"  '"  '^'  'likened 
The  mist  drifted  from  the  sun,  but  the  girl  saw 
no  glory  of  l.ght.  Again  the  waters  leaped  to  lif" 
.n  thousand-toned  laughter.     She  did  not  hear  it 

^Xt^zX  ^^^-^---'-.■ 

so  !':.'■ '"'-^'="^'^'*"'='    ^'o- face  has  turned 

The  girl's  arm  tightened  round  the  other's  shoul- 
ders  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

near  .'ll'-"'''"  '^'  ""'""""^  ''"^'y'  "'''«  ^'^  »re  too 
near  this  precipice.  ' 


CHAPTER   XXIII 


BY-PRODUCTS  NOT  INCLUDED  IN  LEDGERS 

The  superstructure  of  Madeline  Connor's  life  tot- 
tered. She  had  believed  so  firmly  that  the  best  emo- 
tions could  never  lead  to  as  great  woe  as  the  worst; 
that  life  founded  on  the  spirit  was  invulnerable,  un- 
assailable, impervious  to  the  things  that  sap  founda- 
tions of  sand.  She  had  ignored — or,  rather,  had  not 
had  experience  to  understand — that  of  the  three 
crosses  on  Calvary,  the  bitterest  was  the  one  borne 
for  love's  sake. 

The  subject  of  Mrs.  Ward's  avowal  was  scarcely 
mentioned  again  between  them.  Madeline  rccalk.l 
the  gossip  of  the  reception  and  knew  to  whom  Mrs. 
Ward  must  have  referred.  It  was  as  if  a  blight 
had  swept  over  existence;  as  if  serpents  reared  ugly. 
treacherous  heads;  as  if  satyr  facv»  leered  darklv 
in  the  shadows  that  are  always  concomitants  of 
light — leered  at  the  poetry  of  youth;  as  it  ove 
might  be  a  mirage  of  distorted  vision  luring  whcr. 
thirst  is  slaked  in  death 

She  recalled  the  art,  the  music,  the  literature  they 
had  enjoyed  together;  the  day-dreaming  among  the 
Easter  lilies  of  the  conservatory;  th«  rambles  by 
354 


BY-PRODUCTS 


clf  in  flame.     Were  these 


to 


355 
paint 


tlie  attraction,'  A       •  ""  ""'^'"8  elements,  as 

.,-    ,    "    ^""^    shivering,"    remarked    Mrs     Warrf 
i-<:t  ut  go  downV  ward. 

KckinK  a  last  cluster  of  waxy  flower,  from  th, 

Aip.n,'t:adotSi;':r;r^^-':"f'° 

-ss   into  the  he..y  .hade  of  th.^^^T.       tTc'eT 

a  wrrf'irTll"?"'"''"^  r--^'^  ^''^-  '<--^"- 

echoi  Jt  1      th    "*'""'[  '^'  "''^'  "'"^  ^  P«"liar 

occaio'n,    rifts    n  f  °"'  "^"7  ""=  '''''«  '-"  -'th 
as  onal  nft    m  forest  and  mountain  showing  the 

far  gl.mmer  of  scarred  ice,  criss-crossed  on  the  t ace 
oi  a  distant  precipice.  " 


J-iA^f 


356 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


The  girl  led  the  way.  She  could  not  talk.  Her 
thoughts  were  chaos ;  and  chaos  takes  time  to  resolve 
into  clear  outlines.  To  be  sure,  she  need  not  have 
cared.  She  could  have  shut  her  soul  up  in  a  cloister 
existemce  and  shut  the  facts  of  life  out;  but  she  was 
no«  sufficiently  unctuous.  She  was  learning  that  ideals 
are  mawki'-h  stuff  till  they  meet  the  shock  of  the 
reals  and  triumph.  She  was  learning,  too,  the  most 
important  lesson  of  a  woman's  life — to  face  facts 
and  conquer. 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  hearth  of  the 
Chalet.  A  surveyor  was  telling  some  globe-trotters 
gathered  round  the  roaring  fire  of  Construction 
Days,  when  an  army  of  workmen  and  adventurers 
invaded  the  mountains  to  build  the  railroad,  and  the 
flood-tide  of  spring  thaw  used  to  throw  up  as  many 
as  forty  dead  after  a  Sunday  brawl.  The  impres- 
sion of  Saxon  warriors  came  to  Madeline  as  it  hail 
that  night  when  Ward  and  Dillon  sat  in  the  dining- 
room  laying  their  plans.  Those  old,  barbaric  fight- 
ers had  been  in\  aders  of  mountains,  raiders  of  low- 
lands, conquerors  of  new  lands.  I'hcy  had  gone 
forth  in  bands  of  hundreds — brigands  catling  their 
winnings  "plunder."  The  modern  conqueror  num- 
bered his  hosts  in  hundreds  of  thousands,  invaded 
mountains,  too,  sought  new  conquests  and  called  his 
winnings  "profit." 

.'\ftcr  supper  Madeline  and  Mrs.  Ward  joined 
the  little  democracy  round  the  fire.  Suddenly  the 
girl  rose  and  left  the  group.  She  went  upstairs  to 
the  dusk  of  her  own  room,  kneeling  at  the  window 


BY-PRODUCTS  3^ 

with  her  head  bowed  on  the  sill.     She  did  not  see 
he  white  wall  of  Mount  Victoria  ghostly  in  the  star- 
light,  with  the  new  moon  hanging  like  a  silver  sickle 
above  Its  snow  meadows.     She  did  not  hear  the  far 
crash,  hke  booming  artillery,  break  the  night  still- 
ness where  an  avalanche  etched  fresh  grooves  down 
the  vertical  face  of  the  white  wall.      The  rush,„K 
of  the  mountain  torrent  raving  down  from  the  snow 
helds  died  to  a  hush,  a  sibilant  murnur     a  lonclv 
beat— beat— beat,   as  of  muffled  drums.     A  sllal,', 
vvmd  fanned  the  lake  in  front  of  the  Chalet  to  a 
ripphng  m,rr„r,  the  snow >  wall  of  Mount  Victoria 
reflected  m  the  far  end,  the  shadowy  precipices  of 
both   s.des   .    trembling   replica   along   the    shores, 
bhe  saw  nothing  of  the  night's  hushed  beauty  noth- 
ing but  a  vision  of  two  faces  swirling  past  in  deco 
waters.  ^ 

She  raised  her  face  t  •  the  starlight  in  an  agony  of 
questionings  as  old  as  time,  as  multifarious  as  life 
as  unanswerable  as  the  riddle  of  the  sphinx.     What 
was  life?    Was  it  hunger  and  sleep,  sleep  and  hun- 
ger, till  the  last  long  sleep?    Was  it  a  life  of  prey 
if  civilized,  so  much  the  cruder;  if  refined  so  much 
the    craftier?      What    was    love-this    thing    that 
swept   one   over    a    precipice,    led   another   to    the 
f-ights,- that  was  neither  joy  nor  pain,  but  an  ecstasy 
ot  both?    It  was  no  longer  a  speculation— this  ques- 
tion of  love.    It  was  there,  a  reality,  above  her  own 
lite,  above  her  friend's. 
"Madeline?" 


3s8  THE    NEW    DAWN 

Mrs.  Ward  had  glided  in  unheard.  She  slipped 
to  her  knees  beside  the  girl. 

"Let  us  forget,"  she  said  tenderly.  "Dear  child, 
let  us  dream  while  we  may !  Let  us  dream  till  we 
must  awaks!  ....  What  could  women  do  if  they 
did  not  dream  ....  a  little?  .  .  .  ."  The  heavy- 
lashed  li"  J  opened  wide.  "Let  us  dream  that  love  is 
....  tender,  ....  not  cruel;  ....  that  happiness 
....  lasts;  .  .  .  thai  vows  are  .  .  .  never  .... 
broken;  ....  that  love's  trust  is  ...  .  never  .... 
violated!   ....   Let  us  dream  that  we  are  most 

like   God   when   we   love  most; for  who 

loves  ....  most,  most  Is  forgiven!  ...  It  is  good 

for  women  to  dream; to  dream;  ....  to 

trust  ....  til!  trust  ....  is  betrayed  .  .  .  .  ; 
....  crucified;  ....  trampled  under  foot;  .... 
defiled;  .  .  .  cast  out  with  the  outcast  things!  You 
don't  seem  to  know  how  humorous  all  this  ,0,  .  .  .  . 
dear  child!     Laugh!  ....  Laugh!  .  .  .  Dc  "t  weep! 

It's  an  old  ....  old story;  ...  the  way 

of  the  world,  dear!  ....  Let  us  dream!  ....  Let 

us  dream !  .  .  .  .  When  the  wakening  comes, 

we  shall  have  had  our  dream." 

The  girl  did  not  answer.  She  could  not.  Her 
voice  shook.  Her  eyes  blurred  to  the  sight  of  all 
else  but  the  vision  of  two  faces  sweeping  past  in  the 
dark.  "I  am  a  croaker,"  said  the  woman  gently.  "I 
have  filled  your  mind  with  gloomy  thoughts  1  For- 
get them,  child!     Go  to  sleep;  .  .  .  and  dream! 

The  door  between  the  two  rooms  closed.  Mrs. 
Ward  had  gone. 


BY-PRODUCTS 


359 


It  IS  one  of  the  peculiar  virtues  of  mountain  life 
that  you  may  go  to  bed  with  wakeful  thoughts  if 
you  but  climb  hard  enough  the  mountains  will  put 
you  to  sleep.  Madeline  slept  the  dead  sleep  of  a 
weaned  body  and  a  hope-sick  heart.  Toward  morn- 
ing she  wakened  herself  sobbing  feverishly,  tear- 
Icssly  in  her  sleep,  with  an  odd  sensation  of  some 
one  m  the  dark  leaning  over  her.  She  sprang  up 
and  threw  open  the  window  shade.  It  was  a  hallu- 
cination. There  was  no  one;  and  when  she  looked 
out  a  blaze  of  wine-colored  sunlight  had  turned  the 
white  wall  of  Mount  Victoria  to  a  city  of  jasper 
with  the  crisping,  emerald  waters  reflecting  templed 
peaks,  wind-flung  clouds,  and  a  sheen  of  snows. 

A  little  noiseless  fluttering  through  the  forest  a 
pattering  of  pine  needles,  a  sudden  radiance  of  gold- 
shot  mist  in  the  gorge,  a  quivering  over  the  polished 
surface  of  the  emerald  lake;  and  it  was  day. 

Madeline  noticed  that  the  door  between  the  two 
rooms,  which  had  been  closed  when  she  went  to 
sleep,  now  stood  open.  Did  she  dream  or  had  she 
seen  a  white  form  slipping  ghostily  through  the 
gloom?  But  when  she  looked  into  the  other  room 
Mrs.  Ward  lay  asleep. 


PART    IV 
POWER  TRIUMPHANT 

CHAPTER   XXIV 


U 


THE   CREED  RECKONS   WITH    DEMOS 

Sam  McGee,  labor  delegate,  trod  air.  His  head 
was  in  a  cloud  of  dreams.  Demos,  the  down-trod- 
den; Demos,  the  haltered  gin-horse  on  the  tread- 
mill of  bootless  labor;  Demos,  the  dumb  slave, 
beast  of  burden,  blind  toiler  in  the  dark  of  countless 
centuries  in  the  divided  democracy  of  rich  and  poor, 
was  arising,  throwing  off  his  yoke,  finding  voice, 
opening  his  eyes  to  emancipated  manhood!  No 
more  anxious  fright  tossing  on  sleepless  pillows! 
No  more  hungry-mouthed  want  coursing  wolf-like 
through  the  shadows  on  the  heels  of  maidenhood, 
hounding  virtue  into  vice  !  Mc<jee  was  winning  the 
battle.  That  was  the  po»nt.  He  had  »on  over 
the  Truesdale  Mines  and  was  gradually  besieging 
the  Great  Consolidated  into  surrender.  McGee's 
appearance  in  the  Nickel  Plate  saloon  was  the  in- 
stant signal  for  clinking  glasses  and  stamping  '<i 
feet,  and  cries  of  "  i  speech."  Then  McGce  would 
remove  the  felt  hat  and,  through  the  clouds  of 
360 


CREED   RECKONS   WITH    UEMOS  36. 

smoke,  beg  his  followers  "to  stand  for  the  sacred 
rights  of  the  workingman";  "to  sacrifice  the  present 
for  the  ultimate  fact  of  victory:  to  keep  eves  afront 
on  the  great  fact  of  the  Revolution,  when  every 
worker  wou  d  throw  down  pick  and  shovel  and  en- 
ter  into  his  divine  heritage." 

"Sacre,!  rights!     Pah  I"    Goldsmith,  the  Socialist, 
brought  his  pipe  down  with  such  a  click  that  he  broke 
the  stem.   "What  I  tell  you.  Mc(]ee,  is  this-//,..  „/,/. 
mate  fact  h  the  dollar  bill/     Vou  think  you  bring 
the  death  of  that  fool  fellow  Kipp  up  in  the  courts? 
Your  courts  be  damned.     The  ultimate  fact,  there, 
|S  the  dollar  bill    tool     You  think  you  link  labor 
with  capital    while  you  both  pick  the  pockets  of  the 
public?     Pah!     The  public  may  be  fool  one  time, 
rhe  public  may  be  fool  two  times.    The  public  may 
be  fool  three  times;  but,  by  and  bv,  it  say-'Herc 
you  two  fools,  you've  had  your  sha;e.    'Jhink  y<.u're 
going  to  get  a  cinch  on  earth  and  air?   Here,  everv- 
body-come  in  and  help  yourselves.     De  earth    s 
f"l    of  coal.     Take  it!     There's  food,  and  plenty 
G.t  out  o    the  way  you  fellows,  labor  and  capital : 
the  people    are   hungry.      Come   in,   people-eat! 
That's  socialism.'" 

Goldsmith  drank  a  glass  of  beer.  McGee 
laughed.  The  Socialist  wiped  the  beer  from  his 
neard,  and  rambled  on: 

"feudalism,  serf  and  lord,  you  fight  that?  Pah' 
It  IS  a  money  feudalism  we  have,  captains  of  in^ 
dustry  w,th  tjeir  slaves !  It  is  the  money  feudalism 
«-?  nave,      i  he  man  with  big  enough  money  can 


36» 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


!    I  i 


tweak  the  Pope's  nose;  and  patroni/e  God  Al- 
mighty; and  bluff  the  church;  and  bribe  the  courts; 
and  murder  a  wife  or  two  if  he  has  a  mind,  or  put 
one  wife  in  the  asylum  and  another  in  his  house; 
and  tax  the  people  till  they  sweat  blood,  tax  'em 
in  higher  prices  for  meat,  in  higher  prices  for  bread, 
in  higher  prices  for  coal,  tax  'em,  I  tell  you,  till  the 
man  on  a  salary  can  no  more  save  money  than  thi- 
Jew  on  the  rack  of  a  robber-baron!  If  he  has  big 
enough  money  the  whole  world  will  sing  him  a  halle- 
lujah chorus,  and  dance  to  the  Devil!  'Tis  the 
money  feudalism  we  have!  Your  charity  is  rotten 
with  it !  Your  charity  is  cheaper  than  justice !  Your 
courts  are  rotten  with  it:  if  it  doesn't  buy  the  judge, 
it  buys  delay!  Your  press  is  rotten  with  it:  make 
money  by  a  steal,  make  the  steal  big  enough;  and 
the  paper  that  would  flay  you  for  taking  a  loaf  of 
bread  will  praise  you  for  a  financier!  Your  morals 
are  rotten  with  it!  I  know  a  little  criminal  of  the 
black-cat  stripe  who  shot  his  own  brother,  and  poi- 
soned a  witness  who  saw  him  do  it ;  then  bought  all 
the  lawyers  in  the  town  and  played  the  habeas  cor- 
pus racket  till  he  tired  out  public  opinion;  so  got  oft 
free!  'Tis  the  money  feudalism  we  have!  Your 
morals  are  rotten  with  it;  and  your  churches 
dead!" 

The  big  German  smote  the  table  with  his  fist. 
McGee  no  longer  laughed. 

"Granted  it  is  the  money  feudalism  we  have," 
he  said,  "how  are  you  going  to  wrest  liberty  from 
it  the  way  the  serfs  wrested  liberty  from  the  barons? 


CREED   RECKONS  WITH    DEMOS  363 

How  but  by  compelling  a  division  of  the  profits 
■  ...  eh?  That  means  higher  wa(fes  to  the  work- 
mn  !  ^ou  thmk  the  courts  will  fool  me  about  the 
death  of  K.pp?  ....  We'll  see!  If  I  had  brought 
a  charge  of  murder  against  the  Great  Consolidated, 
who  would  have  listened  to  me?  Do  you  ihink  I 
could  have  made  the  public  prosecutor  act?  Do 
you  thmk  the  press  would  have  b.en  paid  to  touch 

.twth  tongs? No,  sir  .   .   .   I  know  what  I 

am  doing!  If  we  had  sprung  that  sort  of  a  charge 
we  d  just  be  where  those  fellows  were  who  tried  to 
get  a  verdict  in  Chicago  when  the  whiskey  ring  put 
dynamite  under  the  independent's  cellar!  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  that  case?  ....  ever  read  of  it  in 

the  paper?  ...  No why?  ....  Mush 

money!  There'll  be  no  hush  money  for  Kipp,  by 
God!  I'll  spring  it  on  'cm  before  they  kno«-  it! 
We'll  join  Truesdale  in  the  defense  of  this  civil  suit 
about  tunneling  off  his  ground !  When  the  evidence 
comes  m  about  the  tunnel  we  spring  the  facts  about 
KippI  Then,  our  civil  suit  becomes  a  criminal  one, 
see?  Justice  will  have  a  murder  to  deal  with  . 
see?" 

Goldsmith  looked  long  through  his  dim  spectacles 
straight  into  McGee's  eager  face.  The  dreamer  was 
looking  at  the  fighter. 

^^  "/  understand,"  answered  the  German,  slowly, 
"dat  dc  ultimate  fac'  in  dis  countree  iz—iz— de- 
dollar  bill!" 

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364 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Nevertheless,  when  the  time  came  for  Ward's 
suit  against  Truesdalc  in  the  matter  of  tunneling 
into  Great  Consolidated  ground,  Goldsmitl.  and  all 
his  coterie  helped  to  pack  the  crowded  court  room. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  state  how  this  case  was  post- 
poned, relegated  to  the  long  delayed  among  the 
advertising  columns  of  the  newspapers  under  the 
heading  "lis  pendens."  Once,  it  was  a  witness  miss- 
ing. Again,  it  was  a  witness  ill.  Then,  President 
\\'ard  was  away.  Then,  the  counsel  for  the  prose- 
cu'ion  required  more  time  to  prepare  the  evidence. 
T*-  -n,  the  counsel  for  the  Great  Consolidated  op- 
r  rtunely  fell  ill.  Then,  the  discovery  of  Kipp's 
body,  "come  to  death  by  means  unknown" — was  the 
verdict  at  the  inquest — had  necessitated  a  complete 
repreparation  of  the  evidence. 

I  think  if  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  could  have  been 
found  about  this  time,  a  gentleman  of  soft  voice, 
and  soft  tread,  and  silky  beard,  might  have  been 
commissioned  to  offer  a  settlement  of  the  case  out 
of  court;  but,  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  had  disappeared 
in  a  resort  known  only  to  one  man;  he,  a  crippled 
plunger  of  Wall  Street.  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  had 
reasons  for  wishing  this  case  to  go  on.  So  had 
McGee.  So  had  the  striking  miners.  So  had  nol 
Obadiah  Saunders.  'I'he  confidential  secretary  de- 
vised reasons  for  six  months'  more  delay.  That  let 
public  interest  simmer  down.  Then,  the  opposing 
counsel  had  another  sparring  match  for  the  delay 
of  the  trial.  Public  interest  became  fatigued.  What 
was  it  all  about,  anyway?     The  man  in  the  street 


CREED   RECKONS   W mi    DEMOS  365 

quit  reading  about  it.  Thus  can  the  law  be  delayed 
to  the  confounding  of  justice  so  that  more  than  two 
thousand  eases  wait  for  longer  than  two  years  in 
every  leading  city  of  a  country  of  libeitv. 

Then  came  a  rumor.  N'obody  knew  who  set  it 
going,  nobody  but  McGee.  The  striking  miners  no 
longer  kept  to  their  homes.  They  gathered  in  knots 
of  loud  talkmg  men  on  the  street.  They  hissed 
Ward  as  he  passed.  They  grouped  in  front  of 
Truesdale's  old  Rookery  Building,  and  cheered  the 
deserted  offices.  They  stoned  "the  scabs"— foreign 
miners— who  came  up  in  flat  cars  from  New  York 
to  take  the  place  of  the  strikers;  and  when  the  mi- 
litia was  ordered  out  it  was  not  hard  to  see  that  the 
volunteers  were  only  too  willing  to  be  hustled  by 
the  rioters.  Then  the  rumor  ran  like  fire:  "Ward 
was  funking";  "Ward's  suit  against  the  Truesdale 
mines  had  been  bluff";  "Ward  was  scared  to  face 
the  music" ;  "Ward  had  begun  the  suit  and  daren't 
go  on";  "it  was  stock-jobbing— speculation— pecu- 
lation—a  steal!"  The  rioters  paraded  the  streets 
by  torch  light,  singing. 

Back  in  the  ofRces  of  the  Great  Consolidated, 
Obadiah  heard  the  singing,  and  had  an  ague.  The 
papers  said  nothing  of  the  rumor  and  reported  the 
riots  jocosely.  Great  Consolidated  dropped  ten 
points  on  'Change.  Tom  Ward's  securities  began 
to  show  symptoms  of  flagging.  Nobody  bought. 
Everybody  wanted  to  sell.  Then,  the  master  hand 
of  Tom  Ward  played  its  trump  card.  The  law's 
delay  vanished  like  mist.    ''Greai  Consol.  vs.  Trues- 


366 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


dale  Mines"  jumped  clear  beyond  the  two  thousand 
other  delayed  cases,  and  the  trial  opened. 

"It  will  bring  Truesdale  out  of  hiding,  anyhow," 
Ward  said  to  Saunders.  Saunders  had  an  ague  and 
turned  the  complexion  of  butter. 

"Was — was — it  judicious?"  he  stammered,  and 
he  went  home  with  the  roof  of  his  mouth  peculiarly 
dry,  his  lips  feverish,  the  base  of  his  brain  gnawing 
as  if  the  vampire  thing  had  again  fastened  its  teeth 
there, 

The  court  house  stood  apart  from  the  main  city, 
a  gray  stone  structure  with  a  statue  of  blinded  jus- 
tice— the  face  of  a  woman  with  bandaged  eyes — 
above  the  door.  Goldsmith  and  McGee  entered 
together.  The  Socialist  paused  under  the  bandaged 
face. 

"See,"  he  said,  pointing  up  to  the  stone  figure, 
"that  strumpet  pretends  not  to  see  pity!  It's  truth 
she  fears,  the  hypocrite!  She's  afraid  to  look  at  her 
own  work — innocence  under  the  heel  of  guilt!  Pah ! 
Your  womanish  mercy  that  outrages  innocence  and 
pampers  guilt!  You'll  feminize  the  manhood  out 
of  America  yet!  Judgment,  it  is  the  greater  mercy! 
You'll  split  your  democracy  with  your  loose  laws!" 
The  court  was  thronged.  Men  stood  in  the  aisles. 
Goldsmith  took  his  place  at  the  back  of  the  room. 
McGee  pressed  on  through  the  crowds  to  the 
benches  behind  the  witness  boxes.  Ward  was  to 
one  side  talking  to  Dillon.  Mr.  Saunders  bent  low 
over  some  papers.  Truesdale  had  just  entered  a 
door  behind  the  judge  and  a  buzz   rippled  over 


CREED   RECKONS  WITH   DEMOS  367 

the  court  room.     Some  hitch  had  occurred  in  pro- 
ceedings and  the  judge  had  leaned  across  to  confer 
with  a  court  official  in  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons. 
Saunders  bent  a  little  lower  over  his  papers.     They 
were  elaborate  drawings  of  the  mines  by  the  en- 
gineer of  the  Great  Consolidated,  with  reports  on 
the  different  workings;  but  Saunders  was  not  think- 
ing of  these  reports.     At  the  back  of  his  head  was 
a  gnawing,   as  if  a  trapped   rat  were  working  up 
through  stones  to  the  top  of  a  shaft.     .At  the  same 
time  he  had  the  most  curious,  pious  feeling  of  grati- 
tude that  God  was  pitiful.     What  would  we  do  with- 
out reliance  on  Deity's  mercy  to  cover  up  our  smug 
hypocrisies?     Saunders  was  still  in  that  crude  state 
of  belief  when  a  man  tries  to  persuade  himself  that 
he  has  only  to  say  "come,"  and  God  comes;  "do," 
and  God  does;  "undo,"  and  God  undoc       God  was 
a  very  convenient  belief  for  Saunders  Jusl  then.    He 
was  so  very  anxious,  was  Saunders,  that  that  tunnel 
trial  should  not  uncover  anything  about  Kipp,  who 
"had  come  to  his  death  by  means  unknown."    Saun- 
de:         nt  lower  over  the  papers.     Once,  when  a 
gruh    ,,'orkman,    leaning    over    McGee's    shoulder, 
whispered.   "Goin'  to  bring  your  corpse  on?"  the 
confidential  man  felt  needles  of  ice  run  down  inside 
his  spine.    Out  of  the  blackness  of  his  terror  some- 
thing seemed  to  emerge  from  a  shaft. 

There  was  evidence  by  the  engineer  of  the  Trues- 
dale  mines,  and  the  engineer  of  the  Great  Consoli- 
dated; wonderful  evidence  as  diametrically  opposed 
as  the   facts  of  history  recorded  by  different  his- 


368 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


torians.  Tliere  were  drawings  submitted  more  com- 
plicated than  a  puzzle.  Down  in  the  audience,  Mc- 
Gee's  followers  nodded  their  heads  and  bade  each 
other,  "Wait!     It's  coming!" 

It  was  an  hour  before  the  adjournment  of  the 
court  for  the  day  when  McGce  toolc  the  witness 
stand.  Necks  craned  among  the  audience  and  the 
whispers  suddenly  fell  to  a  profound  silence.  Both 
Ward  and  Trucsdale  leaned  forward  attentively. 
McGee  testified  that  he  was  a  labor  delegate,  first 
employed  by  the  union  to  secure  the  cooperation  of 
the  Trucsdale  miners.  Here,  it  was  observed  that 
the  witness  looked  scornfully  in  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Saunders.     Workmen  in  the  aisles  nudged. 

Yes,  in  response  to  a  question,  he  had  also  worked 
in  the  Great  Consolidated  mines  under  Kipp,  the 
dead  engineer.  Yes,  he  was  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  internal  workings  of  both  mines. 

Would  he  recognize  these  drawings  as  accurate 
representations  of  the  Great  Consolidated  work- 
ings? 

Most  emphatically,  he  would  not. 

Why  not? 

Here,  the  counsel  for  the  Great  Consolidated  ob- 
jected that  the  opinion  of  a  novice  was  not  to  be 
taken  as  evidence  on  a  subject  that  required  the 
knowledge  of  an  expert.  McGee  turned  directly  to 
the  audience  and  smiled  broadly,  but  after  sparring 
and  cross-sparring  by  the  lawyers — sufficient  to  con- 
fuse the  issue  in  the  minds  of  the  most  of  the  hear- 
ers— the  labor  delegate  succeeded  in  saying  that 


CREED   RECKONS   WITH    DEMOS  369 

he  would  not  recognize  these  drawings  as  accurate 
representation^  of  the  (ireat  Consolidated  working 
for  two  reasons:  First,  they  did  not  conform  to 
what  he,  himself,  knew;  .econd,  they  did  not  con- 
form to  the  official  report  of  Kipp,  the  dead  en- 
gineer of  the  Great  Consolidated. 

A  sudden  hush  fell  over  the  court  room.  Again 
the  counsel  for  the  Great  Consolidated  sprang  up 
with  the  objection  that  the  report  of  a  dead  man, 
who  had  been  dismissed  from  the  company's  ser- 
vices,  ought  not  to  be  admitted  as  evidence;  and 
again,  the  counsel  for  the  Truesdale  mines  countered 
by  saying  that  it  could  be  shown  this  dead  engineer 
whose  death  had  been  so  wyslerioush  hushed,  had 
been  dismissed  and  reengaged  for'  reasons  con- 
cerned with  the  suit  in  question;  and,  again,  McGee 
turned  directly  to  the  audience,  smiling  broadly 

lorn  Ward's  eyes  were  not  on  .McGee,  but  on 
Saunders;  and  Saunders'  face  wore  the  imperturb- 
able  look  of  frosted  glass.  He  was  sitting  erect 
now,  caressing  his  beard,  gazing  into  space. 

Did  the  witness  mean  to  a.ssert  that  he  pretended 
o  remember-this  with  an  insinuating  scepticism- 
the  highly  technical,  intricate  details  of  the  engi- 
neer's official  report?  ^ 
No;  the  witness  did  not  pretend  to  trust  his  mem- 
ory Here,  McGee  paused,  as  if  mustering  facts 
to  be  crammed  in  his  answer  before  he  could  be 
stopped.  But,  as  he  had  met  Mr.  Kipp  walking 
wi  h  the  secretary  of  the  Great  Consolidated  just 
before  Mr.  Saunders  had  ordered  Shaft  10  filled 


370 


THE    NFAV    DAWN 


';! 


up;  and,  as  that  was  the  last  time  Mr.  Kipp  was 
seen;  and,  as  he  (iMcGee)  always  considered  the 
disappearance  of  Kipp  a  little  queer  when  the  Great 
Consolidated  continued  paying  Mrs.  Kipp  the  en- 
gineer's salary " 

"Confine  yourself  to  the  answer  of  the  question," 
thundered  the  judge. 

McGee  flushed  angrily.  This  time  he  did  not 
turn  to  the  audience.  Taking  a  grip  of  the  broken 
recital,  he  went  on  doggedly:  "And,  as  he  had  kept 
hunting  for  Kipp's  body  where  he  thought  it  might 
be  found,  though  the  company  gave  out  Kipp  had 
gone  to  Peru,  and,  as  he  found  the  body  just  outside 
the  shaft  that  had  been  filled  up  so  mighty  quick, 
and  as  he  couldn't  trust  his  memory  for  the  report, 
he  had  made  a  point  of  obtaining  Kipp's  report 
about  that  tunnel ;  and — lltere  it  litis,  drawing  a 
crumpled  sheet  of  paper  all  pasted  with  torn  scraps 
from  his  breast  pocket  and  laying  it  down. 

If  a  pistol  shot  had  been  aimed  at  Obadiah  Saun- 
ders, and  richochetting  across  had  hit  Pre;,  .ient 
Ward  in  full  view  of  the  audience,  the  effect  could 
not  have  been  more  surprising.  Silence,  heavy,  pal- 
pitating, deadly,  fell  on  the  court  room  for  just  a 
second.  Then  the  hush  exploded  in  a  buzz.  Tom 
Ward  had  involuntarily  started  forward.  The 
judge  was  putting  on  his  pince-nez,  and  the  vacancy 
on  which  Saunders'  glazed  look  was  fast  ned  sud- 
denly filled  with  a  blackness,  a  blackness  with  some- 
thing formless  clambering  up,  hand  over  hand, 
through  the  dark,  the  fury  of  a  nameless  vengeance 


CREED   RECKONS   WITH    DEMOS  371 

unshunnable  as  death.  The  only  movement  of  the 
secretary  was  to  thrust  both  hands  in  his  trousers 
pockets,  looking  up  at  one  of  the  windows  as  if  he 
felt  a  draught  of  cold. 

The  next  moment  the  opposing  counsel  were  at 
>t  with  a  fusillade  of  dog  Latin  and  legal  terms 
that  obscured  everything  for  the  auditors;  and  Mc- 
(-■ee  heard  his  character  torn  in  such  shreds  that  he 
did  not  know  it.  Then  the  court  adjourned. 
*  *  ♦  * 

Mrs.  Kipp  was  all  agog.  The  curl  papers  had 
bloomcc  l,kc  apple  buds  into  a  wonderful  array 
01  frizzled  blossoms  all  round  the  sulphur-colored 
lace.  There  was  a  love-lock  on  her  low  forehead, 
and  two  little  curls  just  in  front  of  her  ears,  and  a 
whole  border  of  fiiz/led  curls  all  round  the  mar- 
gin  of  her  neck,  where  a  big  imitation  tortoise  shell 
comb  held  up  the  back  hair. 

Mrs.  Kipp  had  gone  in  curl  papers  day  and  nignt 
for  a  week  before  the  trial,  each  curl  -rewed  so 
tight  that  it  pulled  the  skin  back  till  the  sea-green 
eyes  were  almond  in  shape.  She  had  not  had  time 
to  buy  mourning  costumes  for  the  inquest  over  poor 
Kipp  s  body,  but  she  made  up  for  that  neglect  by 
gorgeous  preparations  for  the  lawsuit.  Great  Co,,, 
sol.  vs  Tr„esdale  Mh.es.  To  be  sure,  widow's 
weeds  had  gone  slightly  out  of  fashion,  but  then, 
as  Mrs.  Kipp  told  the  foreman's  wife  out  at  the 
mining  village,  "the  widow's  bonnet  and  white  bor- 
der, and  ong  veil  was  so  distangay,  she  was  goin' 
to  wear  'em!"     And,   as   for  siceves-you  should 


37» 


TMR    NF.W    DAWN 


have  seen  her  sleeves.  She  told  the  foreman's  wife 
they  were  bell  sleeves,  and  the  new  engineer's  wife 
they  were  bishop  siceves,  and  every  neighbor  who 
canr"  in  to  see  "the  goin's  on  for  the  lawsuit,"  agreed 
that  they  were  "stunnin'  sleeves."  Certainly,  what 
with  tucks,  shirring,  and  pleats,  and  flares,  they 
were  wonderful  sleeves;  and,  then,  as  one  of  Mrs. 
Kipp's  beaux  said,  "her  little  white  hand  had  such 
a  dev'lish  pretty  way  of  flirting  at  you  just  where 
it  emerged  from  the  sleeve."  If  Mrs.  Kipp  "turned 
on  h'-r  flirtatious  look"  along  with  the  flipping  of 
her  hands  "you  were  done  for." 

Then,  Mrs.  Kipp  affected  the  Grecian  bend  at 
her  waist:  that  is,  she  leaned  vrry  far  forward 
with  her  chin  and  v-ery  far  in  at  her  waist.  It  re- 
quired practice,  particularly  tor  sitting  down,  but 
Mrs.  Kipp  took  plenty  of  practice  in  front  of  the 
mirror.  The  fit  of  her  long,  black  dress  with  the 
floppy  train  and  flaring  skirt  was  a  perfect  Grecian 
bend.  If  to  all  this  you  add  the  facts  that  Mrs. 
Kipp  walked  with  a  lithe  spring  to  each  step,  and 
a  little  saucy  toss  to  her  head,  and  a  little  flirtatious, 
self-conscious  darting  of  the  most  killing  glances 
from  her  eyes — you  will  realize  that  Mrs.  Kipp 
could  be  distinctly  dangerous.  As  the  foreman's 
admiring  wife  had  said,  "Mrs.  K.  was  raving  hand- 
some in  her  mourning." 

Just  behind  the  judge's  chair  in  the  court  room 
was  a  door  leading  to  a  sort  of  private  ante  room. 
Here  sat  Mrs.  Kipp  the  last  day  of  the  trial,  wait- 
ing to  be  called.    If  the  truth  must  be  told  she  was 


CREEP  RECKONS  WITH   DEMOS  373 


HeginninR  to  feel 

veil  tioii/d  j/o  askew;  and 


nervous  at  wai 


to  the  foreman's  wife,  wh 


iting  so  long.     Her 
tWvT.ty  times  she  remarked 


do  I  look? 


o  was  with  her,  "I<;h,  h 


tow 

K  r    .     .         I  Ih  « I'.. I 

^'PP!  .  .  .  And    >s    my    hat    on    straight? 
Vou  d      t  k„o,.  what  it  is  to  he  loved  as  p'oor  Kipp 

,.  , is  the  hick  hairp m  rght? 

J.St  to  thmk  a  year  ago  poor  Kipp  was  ravin' Kali 
"US  of  every  man  that  looked  a^  mel  .  .  HI  list 
walk  mto  that  court  room  ....  like  this  "    trut 

Ts:t:J:^' '''''?"''■  Wfr-rk 

aTve   h;MK  ■  ■  '"■'     '-'"''  '"''"•  ''      -PP  wu.. 

iat      .::J:,^.'°"^  ''""^  -'''»'  I  ^'oodf  rum 

"Don't  luk  as  if  ye  didn't care.  Airs   K    • 

advised  the  foreman's  wife.  ' 

But  the  injunction  fell  heedless  on  Mrs.  Kipp 
Lands,    did   ye   see   him,    though?"   she   asked 
D,d  you  see  Mister  Saunders?    He  winked 

^ru''T    P^'tted  my...  hands!" 

i  he  door  opened  softly 

My  dea.  Mrs.  Kipp,  try  to  bear  up!    It  will  a^l 
be  over  ma  mmute,"  he  whispered  as  he  lid  he 
to  the  court  room. 

queu,  of  a  hve-aet  drama  with  the  eyes  of  the  whole 


374 


THK    Ni:W    DAWN 


world  fastened  on  her  beauty.  She  swept  to  the 
court  room  with  a  spring  to  her  step  and  a  toss  to 
her  head  that  was  meant  for  pride,  anil  a  pathetic 
enough  droop  about  her  eyes  to  make  the  gods  of 
laugliter  weep.  Then,  just  for  a  second,  she  forgot 
herself.  It  was  only  a  second.  The  gaze  of  many 
faces,  the  vague  stir,  the  masculine  burr  of  voices — 
frightened  her.  Someone  handed  her  a  book;  and 
she  was  kissing  the  book,  forgetting  to  be  graceful. 
Then,  a  voice  was  asking  in  tones  of  deep  respect: 

'• your  late  lamented  husband  felt  bitter 

to    he  company,   Mrs.   Kipp?" 

'Yes,  sir!"  Mrs.  Kipp  remembered  to  draw 
out  her  pocket  handkerchief — the  Irish  linen  one, 
hemstitched  with  real  lace — and  wipe  away  a  sus- 
picion of  tears. 

"Can  you  tell  what  his  grudge  was  against  the 
company?" 

"Yes,  sir;  he  wanted  more  salary!" 
"More  salary?     Was  he  not  getting  five  thou- 
sand a  year,   Mrs.  Kipp?" 

"Yes,  sir!  I  al'ys  told  him  he  was  gettin"  more'n 
'e  waz  worth,  but  'e  thought  'e  could  make  'em  pay 
him  ten  thousand!" 

Mrs.  Kipp  acknowledged  this  with  the  air  of  a 
grievance  against  Kipp. 

At  the  back  of  the  court  room,  Goldsmith  gazed 
through  his  spectacles,  shaking  his  head.  McGee's 
jaw  slowly  dropped.  He  looked  as  if  that  hammer 
of  power  which  he  thought  to  wield  so  well  had 
somehow  rebounded  and  knocked  him  on  the  head. 


CRKI'D   KliCKONS   WITH    I)i;\/()S  375 

I  he  woman,  this  one  woman,  this  crcatu  ••  in  the 
tuckers  and  switch  and  Hopping  veil— he  had  pro- 
vided against  everything,  everything  but  this  Je/e- 
hel!  Hut,  Mrs.  Kipp,  all  unconscious,  was  going 
on  with  her  testimony 

"Ves,  sir!  J  le  said  'e  did.i't  care  whether  it 
waz  true  or  not!  He  wa/,  goln'  t'  send  in  reports 
what  would  raise  the  'air  H  their  mental  roofs: 
that  waz  what  'e  said,  the  exact  words!  I  wa/.  agin 
It  from  the  tirsf!  i  said  the  com'any  had  treated 
'mi  fair,  and  'e  ought  to  play  square,  but  'e  Miid 
Mister  Saunders  could  go  down  the  niir  by  hisself, 
and  'e  hoped  the  poor  gen  leman  mip  break  his 
neck!  Kipp  wouldn't  go  down  with  him;  said  'e 
wa/.  goin'  t'  th'  city;  and  that  the  com'any  waz 
goin'  t'  send  'im  to  I'eru ;  and  I  wazn't  t'  be  alarmed: 
the  com'any'd  pay  me  the  salary  jist  the  same!" 
"Oo  you  mean  to  say  that  your  husband  was  try- 
ing to  compel  the  company  to  pay   him  more   by 

sending   in   false   reports?"    interjected   the   judge, 

bending  forward. 

"Yes,  sir,"  murmured  Mrs.  Kipp  behind  her  real 

lace  handkerchief. 

Obadiah   Saunders   looked  prayerfully   up   from 

his   feet   to   the   ceiling.      He   caressed    his   beard. 

McGee  suddenly  gripped  the  railing  in  front  of  him 

as  if  he  could  have  torn  the  woman  to  pieces. 
".....   then,   you   think   your   husband   must 

have  fallen  in  the  river  as  he  was  coming  out  that 

night  to  tell  you  about  his  appointment  in  Peru?" 

the  lawyer  was  asking. 


376 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Yes,  sir!"  Mrs.  Kipp  applied  the  handicerchief 
to  a  laciirymose  effusion. 

It  is  not  the  part  of  this  narrative  to  follow  eluci- 
dations of  learned  counsel  for  the  Great  Consoli- 
dated, showing  that  the  report  of  as  unreliable  and 
bibulous  a  witness  as  Kipp  was  not  to  be  taken  as 
trustworthy  evid  ;nce ;  nor  the  appeal  by  the  learned 
counsel  for  the  Truesdale  mines  for  a  stay  of  pro- 
ceedings until  an  impartial  commission  could  exam- 
ine the  workings  of  both  mines.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
the  commission  was  appointed,  and  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  if  we  could  induce  fate  to  relegate  our 
sins  to  a  commission,  too :  we  might  be  fairly  certain 
of  doing  as  we  pleased  afterwards. 

The  suit  Great  Consol.  vs.  Truesdale  Mines  was 
dropped,  which  meant  that  Truesdale  had  won,  but 
no  verdict  was  given  against  the  Great  Consolidated. 
The  striking  miners  who  had  hoped  for  a  verdict 
that  might  weaken  Ward,  filed  from  the  court  room 
sullen,  grumbling,  resentful  against  that  vague  thing 
Justice. 

"What  did  your  corpse  amount  to,  anyway?"  one 
of  the  men  roughly  demanded  of  McGee. 

McGee  could  not  answer. 

A  light  woman  with  sulphur  skin,  mincing  eyes, 
and  'ripping  walk,  a  light  woman  who  would  have 
sacrificed  the  souls  of  all  workmen  for  one  triumph 
to  her  vanity — had  come  athwart  the  rights  of 
Demos,  had  tossed  her  saucy  head  and  flipped  her 
hands  at  the  stern  thing  called  Justice. 

"The  ....  jade,"  McGee  ground  through  his 


CREED  RECKONS  WITH    DEMOS  377 

Wh"^J°J""'  ^f'^'"''"^  =>f  the  door,  "she  made 

em  think  he  d  suicided  or  fallen  in  drunk " 

Ah  .  .  .  my  fren',"  soliloquized  the  big, 
bearded  dreamer,  "'tis  not  the  woman.  She  have 
much  too  much  of  blame  from  you !  //  /.  de  dollar 
""'  ■   ■   •   ■  dot  ts  de  tillimate  fact'" 

McGee  threw  back  his  head  with  an  angry  laugh. 

By  God,  Im  not  done yet,"  he  said. 

In  that  moment  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  if 

IlL'°n  "xV'r  ^"'''"  ''^^'"y  he  would  take  it 
Illegally      The   Socialist  looked  queerly  over  the 

T  ull  TT'^''-  '^'''"  he  slipped  his  arm 
through  McGee's.  From  that  moment  McGee  be- 
came  a  ramping  red."  The  courts  had  made  the 
convert.     Ward's  creed  had  now  to  reckon  with 


CHAPTER   XXV 


UNMOORED 

Hounds  behind  and  precipice  ahead,  the  deer 
risks  broken  shanks  in  one  wild  leap.  So  with  hfe. 
The  way  behind  closes.  One  way  alone  opens  to 
the  fore,  and  desperation  plunges— though  what  is 
called  "reckless"  when  it  ends  in  a  smash  is  counted 
"brave"  when  it  escapes  whole-limbed. 

The  art  dealer's  design  to  use  Madeline  Connor's 
social  connection  to  draw  custom— shut  one  door. 
An  offer  to  go  to  New  York  opened  another.  Per- 
haps, too,  she  was  pushed  to  the  resolution  by  a 
haunting  fear  for  Mrs.  Ward.  The  spoliation  of 
a  life  is  not  a  laughable  spectacle,  except  to  ghouls; 
and  wounded  love,  like  the  wounded  animal,  can 
but  drag  its  pains  away  to  hide  in  the  dark  of  a 
gradual  forgetfulness. 

You  would  have  stopped  Mrs.  Ward  if  you  had 
been  Madeline  Connor?  So  have  wives  thought  to 
stop  husbands,  and  husbands  thought  to  stop  wives; 
and  broken  their  own  hearts  trying.  So  have  chil- 
dren bowed  under  the  crushing  weight  of  an  inheri- 
tance they  could  not  redress.  Unpleasant  facts— 
yri  say?  ''ray  shut  both  ears  that  you  may  not 
hear  the  cry.  One  sleeps  sounder  pillowed  on  plati- 
378 


UNMOORED 


379 


tudes,  poetizing,  sentimentalizing  with  shut  ears; 
for  the  cry  is  a  harsh  one.  Smug  faith  is  a  more 
comfortable  thing  if  it  tucks  its  head  under  its  wing 
that  it  may  not  see  the  Grim  Giants.  It  is  easier 
to  believe  that  all  things  are  as  they  ought  to  be 
when  we  refuse  to  look  at  things  as  they  ought  not 
to  be. 

The  glimpse  under  the  surface  of  Mrs.  Ward's 
life  filled  Madeline  with  a  kind  of  numb,  love  cold- 
ness.  She  could  no  more  still  the  throbbing  of  the 
great  influence  that  had  come  to  her  own  life  than 
stop  her  heart  beats;  but  she  resolutely  shut  the 
doors  of  memory  on  loss.  Love  had  seemed  to 
open  the  portals  of  Heaven.  She  resolutely  shut 
the  portals.  She  was  afraid.  A  presence  as  of  hope 
or  jf  blight  seemed  to  hang  over  her  life.  What 
would  Mr.  Jack  Truesdale  have  thought  if  he  had 
known  that  Madeline  Connor  was  thankful  he  had 
dropped  out  of  her  life? 

New  York  was  suffering  from  one  of  its  frequent 
fits  of  spasmodic  goodness.  That  's — it  had  been 
discovered  for  the  thousandth  time  that  the  "graft- 
ers"— politicians,  magistrates,  police — received  toll 
for  squeezing  taxpayers,  oppressing  the  poor,  shield- 
ing vice.  The  discovery  was  stale,  but  news  was 
scarce.  Artists  and  reporters  flocked  to  the  East 
Side.  Babies  were  portrayed  dying  from  lack  of 
ice,  while  city  rulers  drew  profits  from  the  ice  trust. 
Draggled  humanity  was  drawn  struggling  in  cess- 
pools of  iniquity,  while  respectability  stood  on  the 
margin  pushing  the  swimmers  back  till  toll  was  paid. 


380 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


An  art  editor  who  had  seen  Madeline's  pictures 
of  ragged  children  now  sent  for  her.  It  was  her 
first  experience  of  the  great  unchurched  world,  and 
she  found  very  good  hearts  beating  under  unclerical 
vestments.  If  this  were  a  record  of  Madeline,  in- 
stead of  Ward,  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  how 
Perkins,  the  art  editor,  sprang  a  proposal,  when — 
as  the  boy  who  carried  the  proofs  back  to  the  print- 
ers, said — "Perkins  popped,  but  the  pop  pied." 

Simms,  the  city  editor,  who  was  good  fellow  to 
everyone  from  the  mayor  to  the  king  of  China 
Town,  was  always  coming  to  Madeline  with  some 
rag-tag  of  humanity  whom  she  could  help  better 
than  he.  It  was  an  unchurched  world — where  Mad- 
eline found  herself — but  it  wns  a  world  where  the 
right  hand  does  good  turns  without  telling  the  left, 
or  without  any  turning  up  of  the  whites  of  pious 
eyes  to  the  Angel  of  Records  for  a  good  mark. 
There  were  no  professions  of  goodness  in  this  world, 
but  some  very  fine  examples.  Instead  of  talking, 
people  did  things,  and  the  highest  praise  ever  given 
was  the  terse  comment — "that's  all  right,"  or  "it'll 
do!" 

Before,  with  an  unconscious  aloofness,  she  had 
witnessed  the  seething  torrent  of  life  from  the  shel- 
tered haven  of  her  own  home.  Now,  she  felt  her- 
self an  infinitesimal  speck  on  the  buueting  billows 
of  a  human  tide.  Before,  she  might  know  or  not 
know.  What  conflicted  with  a  young  girl's  ideals 
might  be  thrust  aside.  Now,  good  and  evil,  all  the 
intermediate  interminglings,  were  too  close  to  be 


UNMOORED 


381 


.n^      1     ,°    "P"'^"^'-'-  «■■  g-^t  a  dissecting  wound 
under  the  delusion  of  studying  the  anatomy  of  sin 

plain  through  the  bruises,  feet  suffer  when  they  wan- 

,r,Tn  J  A  '"7  °P'"'  ''^'"  '"  '''  hewn  open  by  hu- 
man hands.  n  a  word,  Madeline's  convictions  be- 
came  personal  when  the  virtuous  fit  of  the  press 
gave  place  to  a  war  fever.    Orders  for  sketches  fell 

The  inevitable  apprenticeship  had  come.    It  was  as 
I     the  big  city  which  engulfs  so  much  effort  were 
putting  her  to  the  test.     If  she  were  worthy,  she 
would  come  out  the  st.onger;  if  worthless-then 
part  of  the  jetsam  and  flotsam  of  the  city's  wrecks 
At  most,  she  could  always  pawn  the  rubies.    She 

over  r,  r."  °"'rr"'  '  ^^'^  ^"'  '  ^''^'  ='"J  '-"^J 
over  a  solitary  fifty  cent  piece  a  great  many  times 

before  she  thought  of  the  pawn  shops.     One  even! 
mg   coming  home  from  a  private  hospital-the  city 
ditor  had  sent  flowers  in  Madeline's  name  to  some- 
one whose  thanks  he  did  not  want:  poor  Simms 

suit     Ma?r"'''  ^'T^*  '■"^°  ''^"^'^  °^  P--- 
suits-Madehne  passed  a  low-roofed  shop  in  Sixth 

Avenue  which  displayed  the  signs  of  a  banker  with 

he  goods  of  a  jeweler.     Inside,  a  gentleman  with 

hooked  nose  and    aded-green  coat  accommodated 

the^public  with  cash  for  deposits  of  personal  be- 

To-night   the    window     caught    Madeline's    eye 
Iherc   were   garnets   marked   "rubies,"   and   glass 


382 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


ijr.i 


Ji 


clusters  labeled  "diamonds."  The  sham  rubies  re- 
minded her  of  real  ones  with  an  irony  that  gave 
Madeline  the  feeling  of  a  weight  on  her  chest.  A 
young  girl  slipped  furtively  from  the  door.  Some 
love  token  or  heirloom  had  been  left  behind.  What 
next  might  be  bartered  to  stave  off  penury?  Made- 
line discovered  that  the  verdigris  smell  of  a  pawn 
shop  has  the  same  effect  on  courage  as  frost  on 
mercury. 

And  then,  in  a  flash,  came  the  odd  sensation  that 
she  was  being  watched.  Wheeling  haughtily  with 
a  sudden  rush  of  blood  to  her  face,  Madeline  set 
off  sharply  fur  her  apartments  between  Sixth  and 
Fifth  Avenue  near  Central  Park.  She  was  angry, 
and  ashamed  of  herself  for  being  angry.  Such 
little  things  unnerve  when  the  larder  is  lean.  She 
had  often  looked  at  the  odd  display  in  the  corner 
window  without  any  sense  of  shame.  She  i..iJ  even 
gone  in  to  examine  the  workmanship  of  old-fash- 
ioned jewelry. 

A  feeling  tha"  she  was  being  followed  stole  over 
her  with  a  stealthy  shrinkage  of  self-respect.  Then, 
in  a  monient,  she  was  furious.  Erect  as  a  lance  she 
almost  stopped  walking.  The  footsteps  behind 
quickened.  A  slender  woman,  slightly  stooped, 
q".ietly  dressed,  with  a  mass  of  reddish,  lack-luster, 
oily-looking  hair,  passed.  Madeline  glanced  back. 
Theie  was  no  one.  Had  she  been  mistaken?  But 
in  the  glimmer  of  lights  beginning  to  twinkle  the 
woman  paused  in  the  shadow  of  the  house  where 


UNMOORED 


383 


Madeline  had  lodgings.     As   Madeline  turned  to 
the  door  the  woman  moved  forward. 

Her  face  was  in  the  light.    The  two  met  with  a 
quick,  measuring  glance,  the  glance  of  distrust  that 
becomes  almost  a  second  nature  in  the  city      What 
was  It  in  this  woman— a  something  more,  a  some- 
thing  less,  than  other  women?     Altogether  a  poor 
creature,  Madeline  thought;  mean  in  bearing  and 
clothes    with  black  rings  under  her  eyes,  the  sharp 
Imes  of  stramed  vision  on  her  forehead,  the  sallow 
complexion   of  ill-eating,   ill-breathing,   ilkhinking, 
tne  drawn  mouth  of  a  consumptive;  possibly  a  seam- 
stress of  failing  health  with  no  remnant  of  better 
days  but  the  wonderful  mass  of  reddish  hair.     The 
ight  of  a  vague,  caressing  familiarity,  half-timid, 
half-bold— came  to  the  faded  eyes  like  the  flicker 
of  a  dying  candle.     The  woman  did  not  belong  to 
the  begging  class.     There  was  nothing  of  the  im- 
portunate whine  about  her.     Her  look  fell  before 
tne  girl.     Madeline's  hand  was  on  the  door  when 
she^  was  astounded  to  hear  her  own  name. 
"You  arc  Miss  Connor?" 

It  was  all  timidity,  now,  and  pleading,  the  fa- 
miliar light  gone  from  the  eyes,  the  rims  red,  the 
intonation  with  a  rustling  breath  as  from  fogged 
Kings,  the  hands  in  ill-fitting  gloves  picking  ner- 
vously at  the  fringe  of  the  dress  sash.  The  woman 
spoke  pantingly. 

"You  are  Miss  Connor?     The 


you  went  out,  and  I  followed. 


distressfully.     "1  want  to 


you 


I  boy  told  me 
She  coughed 


384 


THK    NF.VV    DAWN 


"What  do  you  wish?"  asked  Madeline,  coldly. 

She  had  a  sardonic  desire  to  laugh.  There  was 
exactly  the  fifty  cent  piece  in  her  purse.  She  felt 
horribly  near  the  squalid  penury  of  this  mean-spir- 
ited woman  with  the  wasted  frame  and  supplicating, 
worm-like  air;  and  yet  pity  for  the  wrecks  of  lift- 
restrained  her  from  brushing  past. 

"I  ought  not  to  intrude.  Miss  Connor,  after  all 
that  you  have  done,"  the  woman  went  on  with  filling 
eyes  and  quivering  underlip.  "I  have  no  right  to 
speak  to  you  when  1  know  what  I  am.  You  have 
helped  little  Budd  so  much  that  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
why  I  seemed  to  run  away  and  desert  him.  I  am  his 
mother.  Miss  Connor?" 

Both  the  woman's  hands  cle-.ched  suddenly.  She 
drew  into  herself  as  if  wrenched  with  pain. 

"After  you  got  him  a  position  in  the  Great  Con- 
solidated, and      ....  and took  him  into 

your  home  ....  a  poor,  little,  ragged  boy,  ar- 
rested for  stealing  ....  I  thought  if  I  disap- 
peared ....  if  I  went  away  where  nobody  knew 

me.  Miss  Connor Budd  would  be  better 

off  without without,"  her  voice  sank  to  a 

whisper,  ".  .  .  .  without  the  reproach  of  his  mother. 
I  thought  he  might  rise  if  ....  if  I  were  not 
there."  She  had  caught  at  the  wall  for  support. 
Madeline  moved  a  step  and  her  arm  was  round  the 
woman.     "I  thought,"  she  stammered,  looking  up 

with  a  rush  of  blinding  tears,  "I  thought 

before  I  died  ....  I'd  like  to  see  the  Miss  Con- 
nor that  helped  Budd." 


UNMOORED  38^ 

voiriiL'St-iillf'^""'^;  ^'■'''  '''<=  "-="'  in  her 
stones.  "''"'-'  °'  =•  ^"""^■•y  brook  over 

with  the  bitterne  oTnVtv  a'  u"  ""  ^"""^^^'' 
of  Budd's  curlv  hen  I  r  '.,  '^  P'^^'^K^Ph  brooch 
Madeline's  ,;i;d       '  '""^"^'^  ''"«"'"«  doubts  in 

-Tehi/:--~-p-s 

somewhere-I  think!     vl,  I      ^"'  ''^'"^ 

when  you  have  ^It  c  u/h  "  Won't'^or;'  ""''"^ 
tell   me   about   yourselP      Pelh       '^  ""'  '"  '"^ 

someone  who  wou  d  help  you  t  .0  T  T""   ''"'^ 
till  you  are  .ell.     You'knZ  t  was  M  '^He"b7' 
helped  me  to  get  the  position  for  Budd     Bu^cn 
■n;  and  you  will  tell  me  all."  But  come 

Madeline    disengaged   herself    ^nrl    .* 
find  the  latch-key  in  her  pur"  ''°°P'''    '° 

"Who  ....  ,vho                  J-  J 
helped  Budd?"  didyousay 

The  wo.nan  had  drawn  her  head  erect  liL,-  ,  c 

all  the  womanhood  of  her  fice  frn,,     .  ,     ^ 

neliden.        i  hen,  just  for  a  second,  a 


386 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


gleam — as  of  triumph,  as  of  revenge,  as  of  reck- 
less screaming,  shameless  mockery — rose  scrpent- 
ively,  furtively,  from  hidden,  turbid  depths,  to  the 
surface  of  the  faded  eyes.  The  woman  seemed 
no  longer  a  woman  but  a  fury  white  with  the  passion 
of  a  burning  vengeance.  Then  the  physical  weak- 
ness of  the  woman  overthrew  the  fury,  and  she  was 
coughing  again,  harsh,  wrenching  coughs,  with  a 
metal  ring  and  a  swelling  of  the  veins  in  the  fore- 
head. 

"Now  ....  come!"  Madeline  drew  up,  and 
with  a  push  held  open  the  door. 

The  woman  did  not  move.  She  stood  breathing 
in  hollow  rasps,  gazing  blankly  at  the  girl.  Sud- 
denly her  frame  curved  forward   as  if  to  striki 

....  or to  kneel!     Then,  before 

Madeline  Connor  realized,  her  hand  was  seized, 
kissed  passionately,  with  a  stifled  sob — and  the 
woman  was  gone.  A  broken-winged  thing  that  haii 
fluttered  into  the  light,  had  fluttered  broken-wingc\! 
back  to  the  dark. 


!      > 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

OLD  FRIENDS   IN   STRANGE   PLACES 

A  NUMBNESS  of  horror  which  oh,.  <-«  \a 
quer  came  over  MaHei;„„  r  *^°"''^  "°^  "^"n- 

to  draw  one\  ,kir»c      •  i   T'   .  '°  """^^  «as  er 

li'.e  mrght  aVe  b^*  ^^  .^'=.'-  ^'^^  ^^"-.  '^at  Made- 
"ide,  if  her  own       r,  ITT^'^  °^  ""^  ^°'"="' 

Whe;e  couS  1  er  e  f"'  r.'  '""  '°  '°'^- 
^nd,  she  was  butane  of  ind/r,  "[.-'''"'^'^^ 
women  supportinrr  then..  ,  °"'*"'^''  °^  milhons,  of 

the  big,  heSs'ci;  "Atm^slr  "'^:  ""''"'  '" 
0(  course,  there  w^re  hn  i      ^^^  ^°'"^"? 

frornman;  n  ,a„7oe7"^  w  ^"^'^'""^  ''"<=- 
that  such  homes  are  fUTT"^  ^V^'  ^'^^  ^'''f"^ 
long  waitinahst     „7  '°  overflowing  with  a 

bilif  andSe'r^itToTtht  "xh^^''"^  '°''' 
a  shortage  of  wrecks  and  delel-::,    ^''"'^ '— " 

-d  it  thre;  ITl.  flZTtl'  ''"'''''"'' 
2onba.tota.awo^„l:n^tr:-£r: 

387 


388 


THK   NF.W    DAWN 


My  Precious:  Why  have  you  never  ansucred  my  letter* 
all  tliese  many  months?  It  is  too  vital  to  iis  hoth  to  indulge 
in  preten'.c.  1  rcf»«-  to  disholicvr  the  evidemc  >oii  so  treely 
gave,  you  meant  I  should  have  when  jou  imcpicd  m)  love- 
token.  What  is  it,  dearest?  Have  spiteful  tongues  been  at 
work?  A  jealous  woman  may  have  reasons  for  spite.  Did 
you  receive  my  letters,  or  were  they  intercepted?  Mrs. 
Ward  has  given  me  your  address,  and  the  Wards  and  mother 
and  m>5elf  shall  be  in  New  York  on  the  way  North  to- 
morrow. 

My  life  is  bound  in  yours.  You  can  do  with  me  what 
you  will.  You  can  make  a  new  man  of  me.  I  have  not 
been  what  I  ought;  hut  jou  can  teach  me  to  redeem  lost 
)c:irs.  It  h.as  not  hecn  all  my  fault  1  have  been  tempted. 
I  am  only  a  man,  but  never  before  did  I  meet  anyone 
whose  love  might  be  a  redemption  instead  of  a  curse.  You 
know,  dearest,  if  gold  is  mixed  with  alloy,  the  nholr  is  no 
longer  pun  gold.  So  it  has  been  with  my  life.  I  ha'e 
looked  for  love.  I  have  met  folly  and  passion;  and  my 
whole  life  has  been  lowered.  Only  noiv  have  I  met  the 
pure  gold.  Give  my  love  leave  to  speak.  For  God's  sake, 
do  not  turn  me  kick,  M.adeline!  1  love  you:  you  love  me. 
Life  is  so  short.  Let  us  gather  the  golden  hours.  Put  your 
hand  in  mine  and  lead  me  back  to  that  happiness  which  I 
hive  lost. 

I  have  thought  of  yon  so  often  ill  this  weary  summer 
with  the  Wards.  Anvw  a\ .  she  app -eciates  you.  There  is 
that  to  her  credit.     I  shall  conic  for  my  answer.  Madeline. 

Whatever  that  answer, 

I  am, 

Devotedly  vours, 

DoRVAI.   Hebden. 


Madeline  never  knew  how  shf.  reached  lier  rooms 
from  the  elevator  cage.  She  sank  to  a  rocker — 
stunned.  Some  men  seem  born  to  take  a  woman 
at  her  weakest  point,  to  come  to  her  at  the  weakest 
moment.     Here  was  an  easy  way  out  of  her  diffi- 


OLD   FRIENDS 


389 


l^lT'  n  r^"'^"'  ""'"'""  ^y  °"^  highest  n,o. 
m  nt,_  Our  l.vc,  ar.  often  determined  by  the  low- 
est.  Odd  how  these  tests  leap  out  from  amhush 
on  u,  a  when  we  arc  least  ahle  to  „,eet  them. 
And  odder  stdl  how  these  crucial  moment,  are 
deculed  not  by  the  present,  but  the  past,  by  the 
habits  formed,  the  foibles,  the  vanities,  the  weak- 
nesses,  the  trends  of  thought. 

After  rereading  the  note,  when  she  came  to  the 
slur  on  Mrs.  Ward  at  the  end,  she  tore  the  naper 
to  tatters  and  stamped  it  under  her  feet.  Then 
from  h.T  fury  emerged  the  one  clear  thought— 
.e  Wards  would  be  in  New  York  the  next  day. 
J  hat  meant  dresses,  and  gloves,  and  summer  blouses 
^.•Ith  costly  lace,  and  cab  fare,  and  the  hundred 
other  trifles  that  only  a  woman  knows. 

In  a  word,  it  i^ieant  money.     The  rubies  would 
have  to  go. 

Again,  Madeline's  feet  carried  her  to  t:.?t  part 
of  Sixth  Avenue  where  the  sign  of  a  banker  is  dis- 
played  below  the  window  of  a  jeweler.  It  was  in 
the  mormng.  'fhis  time  she  did  not  stand  gazing 
at  the  trinkets  behind  the  glass.  She  did  not  hesi- 
tate. She  boldly  opened  the  door,  which  jingled  a 
bell;  and  a  frouzy  woman  with  coils  of  greasy  black 
haircame  waddling  out  behind  the  glass  show  cases 
Goot  day!     Vat  gan  I  doo  for  you,  Miss>" 

One  glance  had  told  the  woman  that  Madeline 
was  new  to  pawn  shops. 

Madeline  took  out  a  purse.   The  woman  observed 
that  the  purse  was  thin.    Madeline  picked  out  a  de- 


390 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


tached  red  stone  and  laid  it  on  a  patch  of  dusty 
velvet  above  the  show  case.  The  pulse  that  some- 
times throbbed  in  her  throat  became  so  active  that 
she  could  not  utter  a  word.  The  woman  licked  her 
lips,  wiped  her  fingers  on  an  ample  stomach,  picked 
up  the  sparkling  gem  between  two  stubby  finger- 
tips. 

"Vot  iss  itt?"  she  asked  thickly,  smudging  the 
thing  with  her  moist  hands.  "Glass — heh — Miss?" 
She  gave  Madeline  a  curious  look.  She  was  won- 
dering if  the  stone  were  genuine  tvhy  Madeline  had 
not  taken  it  to  the  expensive  stores  on  Fifth  Ave- 
nue and  Broadway.  Either  the  girl  was  very  fresh, 
or — here,  the  woman  looked  at  Madeline  quietly. 

"How  much  do  you  give  for  that?"  asked  Made- 
line quietly. 

"Yacubl  Yacub — come  dis  vay,"  called  the 
woman. 

Jacob  emerged  in  shirt  sleeves  from  a  curtain 
behind  the  counter. 

"How  mush  for  dot?"  demanded  the  wife. 

Then  the  man  looked  at  Madeline,  too,  instead 
of  the  stone. 

"Heh?"  he  said,  turning  the  gem  over  and  over, 
then  looking  at  it  through  a  pocket  lens.  "Glass — 
heh?"  said  Jacob. 

The  woman  stuck  her  arms  akimbo,  and  tilled 
one  elbow  into  Jacob's  ribs.  Madeline  did  not 
speak.  She  felt  disgusted  with  herself  for  being 
there.  Jacob  spat  on  the  ruby  and  polished  it  on 
his  shirt  sleeve. 


OLD   FRIENDS  35, 

For  glass  it  emitted  remarkably  fiery  sparks. 

Ker  e^n      r-    ^^l  ^°'"'"  ''^'"^  again,  bump. 

^'How  m  h  u°'  ""■"  *™"  '"^°  J''^°b's  ribs. 
Connor  "  "'"■"'•"  "''"^'^^'^  ^^^eline 

The  woman  pouted  out  her  lips.  Jacob  shrugged 
h.s  shoulders,  wmked  at  the  ruby  witl  one  eye,  Sin 

-m"vt''''  l!'  ^^"^"'•^'l,"',^*f«iv^Iy-     "Two  dollar 
ingTst'spr""^^"''"^'"^''''^^''"-"'^-"- 

Madeline  put  out  her  hand  for  it. 
vaitl"  said  the  woman. 

"Give  it  to  mel"  ordered  Madeline  sharply 
toJh'^:re;7af'^^^°'    He  dropped  tUsto„e 

"Vait,  Miss— you  vait,"  he  said. 

Madehne  picked  the  ruby  up  and  brushed  the 

rethlspX^^^^'  ''■  "^'  -  -^  ~ 

pudrtir""  ^■''"'•""^'"^"'^^'^'^'^  woman,  im- 

.  She  probably  did  not  mean  to  express  more  sus- 
p.c.on  than  she  usually  evinced  toward  the  people 
patron.zmg  her  shop,  but  Madeline  was  so  plainlv 
new  to  such  bargaining  and  the  stone  was  of  such 

nusua  value  that  the  air  of  tacit  accusation  Tn  J 
prepared  for  a  mmimizing  of  price 

Madeline  hardly  grasped  the  insinuation.    Then 
't  came  m  a  flash.-  the  woman  thought  her  a  thief,' 


39» 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


one  of  the  sharpers  who  rifle  rich  houses.  It  was 
as  if  the  Powers  that  Prey  on  Poverty,  the  Yelping 
Furies  of  Vice  that  pursue  the  Heels  of  Want — 
suddenly  gripped  her  by  the  throat  and  threw  her 
self-respect  into  the  gutter.  She  had  closed  the 
purse  on  the  stone  and  turned  to  the  door  when 
the  woman  called: 

"Vait — stop  her,   Yacob! — Offer  her  ten — Ya- 

cob!" 

The  door  bell  jingled.  Madeline  was  out  on 
the  street  with  a  smothery  feelir  ^  of  stoppage  about 
the  heart  and  a  hysterical  desiie  to  laugh.  Plainly, 
someone  else  must  sell  those  rubies  for  her.  Be- 
fore she  knew  wiiere  she  was  going  the  car  had  car- 
ried her  to  Twenty-third  Street,  and  she  had  walked 
across  where  Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue  intersect. 
There  was  the  usual  eleven  o'clock  jam  of  vehicles 
and  people  and  cars.  A  horse  reared,  shoving 
another  carriage  to  the  curb.  The  window  of  the 
cab  was  open.  Sitting  inside,  the  man's  face  black 
with  anger,  the  woman's  pale  with  discontent — were 
the  Hebdens  and  Mrs.  Ward.  Madeline  caught  but 
one  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Hebden's  white  hair;  and  the 
carriage  w<is  whisked  past. 

With  the  smell  of  the  pawn  shops  in  her  nos- 
trils, chagrin  swept  over  her  in  waves.  It  was  as  if 
the  poverty  that  had  been  tracking  her  stealthily 
now  leaped  out  to  shame  her  in  the  open.  She 
had  distinctly  intended  to  go  and  ask  the  city  edi- 
tor's advice  about  those  rubies,  but  she  found  her- 
self in  the  Fifth  Avenue  stage  bound  homeward 


OLD    FRIENDS 


393 


with  a  heaviness  of  heart  that  she  told  herself  was 
altogether   absurd. 

If  she  had  not  been  so  absorbed  in  herself  she 
might  have  seen  a  young  man  threading  through 
the  crowds  of  Twenty-third  Street,  hailing  the  stage 
driver  with  the  mute  curses  of  a  clenched  fist  when 
the  'bus  run-.bled  off  without  him,  and  at  once  jump- 
ing into  a  hansom  to  follow.  It  seemed  her  fate 
to  be  inter:  pted  that  morning,  for  barely  had  she 
entered  the  apartment  when  the  porter  was  say- 
ing: "That's  her,  mam,  if  you  want  to  see  Miss 
Connor!" 

"A  lady  an'  gen'leman  just  been  here  in  a  ker- 
ridge  to  see  y',  Miss  Connor,  and  this  here  lady 
bin  waitin'  more'n  an  hour." 

The  person  so  designated  might  have  been  a 
washerwoman  or  lodging-house  keeper  of  the  East 
End.  She  accosted  Madeline  in  a  voice  meant  for 
the  people  across  the  street. 

"Are  ye  the  Miss  O'Connor  what  Mrs.  McGee 
come  to  see  last  noight?  Sure,  the  poor  thing  's 
bin  goin'  on,  out  of  her  hed  iver  since  I  Rapes 
goin'  on  about  the  gin'leman's  picture  what's  under 
her  pillow,  and  the  Miss  O'Connor  that  she  wint 
to  see!  I  set  up  wid  her  las'  noight,  mum;  but  she 
kapes  gom'  on  about  yez !  Sure  an'  I'm  thinkin' 
wid  the  cough,  an'  the  banshee  callin'  all  las'  noight, 
an'  the  gibberin'  way  she  talks— she's  not  long  fer 
this  earth,  mum!  Bcin'  a  Christian  woman,  I  come 
fer  to  see  yez  about  her!     Wud  ye  come  to  her, 


394 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


sure  she  moight  die  more  quiet  like  and  dacent, 
mum  1" 

"Where  do  you  live?"  asked  Macjline. 

"Tis  King  Street,  mum,  and  nr  place  fer  the 
loikes  o'  you;  though  me  lodgers  are  all  hard-work- 
in'  honest  folks!  But  sure,  poor  thing,  it's  koind 
o'  sort  o'  pitiful  fer  her  to  be  lyin',  dyin'  there 
alone!  Suro,  it's  koind  o'  queer,  mum — she  don't 
wear  no  ring,  and  nobody  niver  comes  to  see  her 
but  the  bhoys  wid  the  sewin'  from  the  shops!  She's 
bin  all  alone,  payin'  her  rint  roifht  reg'lar  as  the 
week  come  round,  but  Lord  love  you — how  kin  she 
sew  wid  the  death  whistle  in  ivery  breath?" 

The  woman  rambled  on  garrulously  while  Made- 
line turned  over  in  her  mind  the  risk  of  responding 
to  the  appeal  unaccompanied  by  some  friend.  Vice 
follows  close  on  the  heels  of  want.  What  if  she 
had  been  watched  again  at  the  pawn  shop,  and 
the  woman's  emotion  of  the  night  before  had  been 
a  piece  of  acting?  Priceless  rubies  offered  in  a 
cheap  pawn  shop  might  have  set  sleuths  on  her 
trail.  It  is  a  choice  we  all  have  to  make,  whether 
to  risk  danger  for  a  doubtful  good  or  let  the  strug- 
gler  sink  and  save  our  skins. 

A  hansom  clattered  to  the  curb.  Someone  had 
run  hurriedly  into  the  hall,  and  Truesdale  stood, 
hat  in  hand,  beside  Madeline  and  the  woman. 

"So  I  have  caught  you  at  last!  That  blankety 
'bus  went  on,  though  I  waved  like  a  windmill! 
What  is  it?  Someone  ill  wants  you  to  go  to  them? 
■Where— King  Street?    Oh-  -better  let  trr.  go  with 


OLD   FRIENDS  3,^ 

you   Mad  ,i„e.    There  m.y  be  pigs  in  the  orchard. 

c.  the  w  .,  ^';.j:^'^^^- 

back     odTtT-  \''-      ^'"-   ^'^G"-   ^''-d   floor 

McG        h.,ii;;tir:r;e1^ 
at  the  lawsmt  the  other  day.     Come;  but  you  shouTd 
have  someth,ng  to  eat.    You  are  as  white  as  a  sheet 
I  saw  you  at  a  distance  in  Sixth  Avenue  and  h  ve 
been  on  your  trail  hot  foot.     Never  mind    HI  K 
you  a  lunch  basket  when  you  r^c™';  ^    ;    ^^ 
They  were  .n  the  hansom  and  the  horse  was  d  p- 
^oppmg  down  Fifth  Avenue  for  King  StreeT  befor'e 
Madeime  remembered  that  Truesdale  was  to  be 
dropped  out  of  her  life,  that  the  portals  of  a  viln 
a  hope,  a  rapture,  were  to  be  kept  shut,  tha    sh^ 
•-as  henceforth  to  be  as  a  stone  to  love  and  a  1  tha 

''S,xth  Av      "  ^"^V^'  P"'"  ^''"P-     H^  had  said 
Sixth  Avenue."     Then  she  realized  that  his  self- 

possesion  would  hardly  have  been  so  complete  if 

he  had  not  known  that  self-possession  must  cover 

the  embarrassment  of  two.     But  what  was  he  say' 

|ng,  and  what  was  she  answering,  in  spite  of  il 

those  braise  resolution:  ? 

<rel?°  T  ^■':'"^"^ber  that  last  walk  we  had  to- 
gether the  wmter  n.ght  before  several  thousand 
to.  o^f^somethmg  fell  on  top  of  me  in  the  Stock 


396 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"Remember?"  That  wa-s  all  Madeline  could  say. 
How  could  he  ask  if  she  remembered  the  confes- 
sion of  love  which  he  had  drawn  out  and  met  with 
six  months  of  silence? 

"Jove,  T  felt  so  brave  when  I  left  you  that  night, 
Madeline,  I  thought  I  could  fight  -nything.     I  felt 
like  the  old  knights  who  used  to  ride  out  carving 
rascals  to  mince  meat!"    He  laughed  with  a  boyish 
tremor.     "Well,  the  Stock  Exchange  knocked  all 
that  poetry  out  of  me,  I  can  tell  you.     You  must 
have  thought  me  a  very  jackanapes  of  conceit  and 
confidence,  the  wriy  I  talked  that  night.     Anyway, 
I  couldn't  bear  to  come  to  you  with  the  story  of 
failure  after  all  you'd  said  to  me!     I  thought  that, 
if  I  couldn't  crawl  out  from  under  the  avalanche 
that  hit  me  that  day,  I'd  never  have  the  face  to  look 
you  in  the  eyes — you,  who  are  so  fearless  of  conse- 
quences in  your  goodness !    Then,  when  I  won  that 
lawsuit,  I  thought  I  might  come  and  report  prog- 
ress, but  they  told  me  you  had  gone  to  New  York." 
The  hansom  was  delayed  by  a  jam  of  crosstown 
vehicles  at  Thirty-first  Street,  and  Truesdale  hoped 
the    procession   would   last.      In    Madelinp's    mind 
waged  a  struggle.     She  had  been  proving— proving 
so  definitely  to  herself  that  he  was  unworthy  of  her 
love;  that  his  silence  had  been  dishonorable;  that 
nothing  could  possibly  excuse  his  conduct.     It  was 
so  much  easier  to  vanquish  love  when  he  was  not 
there,  but  if  he  were  all  she  had  thought,  all  that 
her  love  had  hoped,  if  he  were  more  than  she  had 
hoped,  worthier  than  her  love  had  dared  to  dream? 


OLD    FRIENDS  397 

If  he  were  all  she  had  dreamed  of  him— rauld  she 
vanquish  love  if  she  wanted  to?  Her  hanus  locked 
fghtly  m  her  lap.  She  looked  ,ay.  Perhaps  he 
misunderstood,  for  he  began  impetuously.  He  knew 
they  had  only  a  few  more  minutes  together 

"Madeline,  if  the  banks  had  not  advanced  me 
money  it  would  have  been  a  complete  smash-up.  I 
could  never  have  got  on  my  feet  again." 

Seized  with  a  fear  that  he  had  seen  her  at  the 
pawn  shop,  Madeline  turned  her  head  to  hide  the 
flush. 

"New  York  is  hard  enough  for  a  man,  Made- 
line. Many  is  the  night  when  I  had  not  one  dime 
to  rub  against  another  that  I've  walked  up  and 
down   these   God-forsaken   places   we're   going  to 

"Was  it  as  hard  for  you  as  that?"  asked  Made- 
line,  not  trusting  herself  to  look. 

"What  does  it  matter  how  hard?"  laughed  Trues- 
dale.  "A  man  can  rough-and-tumble  I  A  woman 
can  tl  ' 

The  flush  began  to  flood  her  face  again.  "He 
saw  me  at  the  pawn  shop,"  she  thought. 

"Madeline,"  he  continued  eagerly,  "let  me  do  for 
you  what  the  banks  did  for  me !  Let  me  help  vou ' 
1  mcanif  ever  you  need  it,  you  know,"  he  added 
b  undenngly  "It  would  he  the  greatest  pleasure 
of  my  life— let  me !"  he  pleaded. 

Madeline  looked  away.  She  could  scarcely  tnjst 
her  voice. 


398 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"You,  who  are  so  icornful  of  lympathy,"  »he 
said,  "you  offering  me — help?" 

"But  don't  you  see  it  is  different  with  a  woman? 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  When  she 
spoke  her  voice  was  thrilled  with  unexpressed  mean- 
ing- . 

"1  scorn  sympathy-seekers  just  as  much  as  you 

dol     I  don't  want  the  kind  of  help  the  banks  gave 
you,  but  I  have  some  stones,  jewels,  I  want  to  sell, 
and  I  don't  seem  to  know  how.     I  wonder  if  you 
could  find  where  such  things  are  sold?" 
"What  are  they?" 
"Rubies." 

"Oh!"  Truesdale  knew  those  rubies,  and  he 
knew  that  Madeline  would  not  willingly  pr.rt  with 
them.  "Why,  of  course,  I  can  sell  some  rubies  for 
you,"  he  added  quickly.  "I  know  a  fellow  who  is  a 
perfect  ruby  crank.  We'll  charge  him  a  ripping 
price.  Can  you  wait  for  a  week?  I  have  to  go 
back  to  the  mines  this  afternoon.  Will  you  send 
them  up  or  shall  I  come  back  for  them?" 

"There  is  the  stone  I  wanted  to  sell."  Madehne 
handed  the  jewel  from  her  purse. 

Truesdale  recognized  the  stone  as  part  of  the 

necklace.  .  .      »  u 

"I  think  we  may  get  a  fair  price  for  that,     ne 

said  quizzically,  putting  the  stone  in  his  pocket. 
As  the  carriage  turned  down  King  Street,  where 

the  tenements  grew  gradually  poorer,  he  turned  to 

Madeline. 


OLD   FRIENDS  399 

"Do    you    know    anything    about    this    McGee 
woman?" 

"Only  that  she  is  Budd's  mother." 
Truesdale  thought  for  a  moment. 
"I  think  I  have  heard  sad  stories  among  the 
mmers  about  her,"  he  said.  "She  was  young,  and 
she  mistook — well  you  know She  mis- 
took the  light  in  the  wayside  pool  for  the  sky,  you 
know,  till  the  muddy  waters  were  stirred  up— and 
I  am  afraid  she  lost  her— her  faith  in  things,"  he 
added  vaguely. 

A  sudden  love-coldness  swept  over  Madeline. 
"It  is  cruel,"  she  broke  out  pemlantly.     "How  is 
one  to  know  the  tinsel  from  the  gold?" 

"I  thought,"  answered  Truesdale  slowly,  "that 
I  had  found  true  metal,  that  I  had  found  the  high- 
est  love  when  I  found  you,  Madeline.  I  know  that 
I  have  found  what  gives  the  lie  to  baseness  in  you, 
if  only  ....  if  only  I  prove  true  metal,  myself, 
when  life  tests  me  .   .  .   ." 

She  heard  the  throb  in  his  voice.  Her  whole 
being,  all  that  was  strongest,  all  that  was  weakest, 
drew  to  him.  She  gave  him  her  eyes  in  one  quick 
glance.  She  could  no  more  have  hindered  what 
that  glance  rev-aled  than  have  stopped  her  life. 
His  hand  had  closed  over  hers  in  a  quick,  tense 
grasp. 

"God  bless  you!  .  .  .  Now  I  go  back  to  the 
fight  stronger  ....  If  I  win  ....  I  may  hope  10 

win  the  best  of  all  ....  no  matter "  what 

was  it  he  had  said?     Madeline  could  never  ;ecall 


400  THE   NEW   DAWN 

when  the  carriage  stopped,  how  she  n.ounted  the 
tenement  stairs  to  the  third  floor  back  and  rapped 
on  the  door  of  a  dark  hallway  with  the  echo  of  his 
"Take  care  of  yourself!  ...  I  must  leave 


voice, 


youl  .  .  •  ■  The  train  in  an  hour,  but  I'll 
the  lunch  sent  up,  and  the  carriage  will  wait." 


have 


CHAPTER    XXVII 


MADELINE  MEETS   THE   GRIM   SHADOW 

The  lodgers  on  the  third  floor  were  moving  si- 
lently,  speaking  in  whispers.  Children  stood  at  the 
open  doors  of  the  other  rooms  staring  at  the  closed 
door  of  the  little  room  on  the  southwest  corner. 
I  he  charity  doctor  had  gone  into  that  room  and 
come  out  agam,  closing  the  door  noiselessly. 

Inside,  Madeline  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  little,  white- 
iron  bed,  waiting,  fanning  a  face  the  color  of  the 
pillows.  Somehow  the  furrows  of  bitterness  had 
left  the  face.  It  wore  the  calm  of  an  almost  ginish 
peace,  or  dreamless  sleep.  In  the  slant  rays  of  the 
summer  sun  the  reddish-gold  hair  looked  like  a 
nimbus,  a  crown.  The  woman  lay  with  her  face 
a  little  to  one  side  toward  the  window,  which  h..d 
been  raised.  Madeline  had  bunched  up  the  pillows 
so  that  the  afternoon  wind  croi'sed  the  bed,  bu<-  the 
woman  had  not  opened  her  eyes,  only  the  labored 
breathing  had  become  easier.  The  charity  doctor 
had  looked  over  the  foot  of  the  bed,  shaking  his 
head.  A  matter  of  time  was  what  the  look  ex- 
pressed. 

"Will  you  remain  with  her?" 


^02  THE    NEW    DAWN 

That  was  all  he  had  asked  Charity  doctors 
learn  to  ask  few  questions.  She  had  nodded  an 
affirmative,  and  he  had  gone  out;  so  the  mornmg 
slipped  to  afternoon,  and  the  afternoon  to  sunset, 
with  pools  of  yellow  light  quivering  o-  the  east 

"""Behind  the  door  was  a  sewing  machine,  where 
a  life  had  been  sewed  out  for  the  sweat  shops  and 
bargain  hunters.  .\  cutting  table  littered  with  paper 
dress-patterns  filled  the  rest  of  the  space  not  occu- 
pied by  the  bed.  The  room  was  hke  a  l.ttle  cage, 
with  the  window  open  for  the  captive  to  escape. 

One  hand  lay  motionless  on  the  roverlet.  Ihe 
other  arm  was  coiled  under  the  mass  of  ha.r  the 
fingers  clasped  across  the  front  of  a  l.ttle  photo- 
graph  locket.  Toward  sunset,  two  red  spots  began 
?o  burn  in  the  white  cheeks.  Madehne  had  ,  onged 
hands  and  face,  but  the  woman  had  not  awaken  d 
from  her  lethargic  sleep.  Only  when  Madelme  had 
begun  fanning,  the  sleeper's  hps  moved. 

"Budd  ought  to  know-he  ought  to  know  about 

his  father  1"  .  ,      .. 

It  was  barely  a  whisper,  and  consciousness  lapsed. 

The  roar  of  the  city  hushed  to  the  palp.tatmg 

of  a  great  power  asleep,  and  Madeline  watched  the 

,un  sink  through  the  yellow  summer  haze  t.U  the 

•"ght  struck  athwart  the  window.    When  she  looked 

to  the  bed  the  woman's  eyes  were  wide  open,  filled 

with  tears.  ,11,.    I'.ir. 

"Do  you  suppose,"   she  whispered  slowly,     do 

_  ...  you suppose  ....  that 


MADFI.INE   MEETS  THE   SHADOW  403 


that  I  wai  the  one  in 


God  ....  think*  .   . 
the  wrong?" 

And  MDdcline,  who  remembered  what  One,  who 
revealed  God,  had  declared  about  the  sinners  going 
into  the  Kingdom  before  the  righteous — could  only 
clasp  her  palm  over  the  wasted  hand. 

"I  thought  .  .  .  .  God  was  dead all  these 

years  ....  till  last  night,"  murmured  the  woman. 

"I  thought  ....  God  must  be  dead or  He 

would  never  ....  have  let  it  all  happen  1   I  thought 

God  was  dead  ....  till  1  saw  ....  you 

.  .  .  .  last  night." 

Madeline  no  longer  saw  the  face  on  the  pillow. 
The  room  had  gone  in  a  blur.  But  the  sunlight 
had  fallen  on  the  woman,  and  her  mind  wandered. 
The  rush  of  the  elevated  railroad  echoed  from  the 
distance  like  a  sigh. 

"Listen "  she  whispered  all  a'.-rt.      'Listen 

.  .  .  .  the  wind  in  the  wheat!    He  will  come!  .  .  . 
He  will  ....  come!     He  will  ....  never  desert 
...  he  will  never  fail  me  I 
it  .    .   .    .die;  sent  .... 

...  die!    Just  think 

die  of  hunger  I    Oh 

•  God how  I  prayed! 

I  threw  myself  at  his  feet  I 


mel     If  I  do  not  tell 
....  He  let  ..   . 
the  nurse  away;  let  it 
let  the  little  one  .... 
it  was  cruel !    Oh  ...  . 

How  I prayed! 

....  I  kissed  his  hands  ....  his  hands  that  had 
carried  me  jewels  and  flowers!  I  begged  him  .  .  .  . 
to  kill  me;  not  to  cast  ....  me  off;  not  to  throw 
me  down  to  Hell;  but  he  said  it  was  my  fault  .  .  .  . 
my  fault?  ....  my  fault  that  I  had  not  stabbed 


404  THE    NEW    DAWN 

him  to  the  heart?     He  said  ....  he  had  me  ...  . 

in  his  power;  if  I  told 1  would  be  hanged!" 

A  shudder  ran  over  the  wasted  frame.  She  drew 
herself  up  from  the  pillow.  "Is  murder  ....  only 
murder  ....  when  it's  known?  ....  And  .... 
oh  ...  .  how  I  loved  him!  I  would  have  died 
rather  than  harm  one  hair  of  his  head;  and  he 
....  he  laughed  ....  when  it  died;  said  I  was  in 
his  power!    Look  ....  it's  the  harvest  moon!    It's 

the  wind in  the  wheat!     He  brought  me 

the  sword  cane  ....  when  he  came  from  Japan 
....  see  over  there!  He  brought  me  ....  the 
locket!  They  are  Budd's!  You'll  give  them  to 
Budd  some  day?     What  have  I  been  saying?     Did 

I  tell  a  name?     Where was  God?" 

A  fit  of  coughing  stopped  speech.  Madeline  had 
put  a  glass  of  water  to  the  fevered  lips.  Setting 
the  tumbler  down  she  had  wound  one  arm  round 
the  woman  when  there  was  a  faint  whisper.   "Pray 

pray  for  me  .  .  .  ."  and  Madeline,  who  had 

almost  forgotten,  in  her  own  despair,  how  to  pray, 
found  herself  on  her  knees  uttering  a  cry  as  old  as 
time,   a  cry  that  gave  the  lie  to   her  own  doubts, 

" oh  Christ by  the  agony  of  the 

Cross,  by  Thy  crucified  love  ....  receive  this,  my 

sister into  Thy  rest,  Thy  peace." 

There  her  voice  broke.  The  locket  fell  noisily 
from  the  woman's  hand  to  the  floor.  She  had  sunk 
back  to  the  pillow;  and  when  Madeline  stooped  to 
pick  up  the  locket  the  world  went  black,  for  the 
pool  of  light  on  the  wall  had  faded,  the  face  on  the 


MADELINE   MEETS  THE   SHADOW  405 

pillow  was  dead,  and  the  face  in  the  locket  not  Budd, 
the  ragged  boy,  but  Mr.  Dnrval  Hebden. 

She  never  knew  he.  she  !cf>  ih-i  tenement,  how 
she  happened  to  be  b  .Kl.ng  swoi  ,  cane  and  locket 
in  her  hands,  how  th.  nr'nsorn  .eemed  to  be  clip- 
clopping  up  Fifth  Avenue  in  the  summer  dark.  Slic 
knew  nothing,  saw  nothing  but  a  dead  face  massed 
with  a  glory  of  reddish-gold  hair,  a  face  with  the 
calm  of  an  almost  girlish  peace,  the  beauty  of  a 
child  in  dreamless  sleep,  the  long,  sweet  rest  of  end- 
less quiet.  She  saw  only  the  dead  woman's  face  on 
the  pillow,  the  living  man's  face  in  the  locket  that 
had  fallen  from  the  dead  hand.  All  the  shams,  all 
the  excuses,  all  the  hypocrisies,  ail  the  platitudes 
with  which  we  poetize  wrong,  compromise  evil,  gild 
crime— fell  away  like  fluttering  vestments  of  rotten 
clothing  from  the  skeleton  of  a  naked  horror;  and 
Madeline  Connor  was  face  to  face  with  the  Grim 
Shadow  of  woman's  life. 

She  felt  a  strange  and  terrible  fever  in  the  palms 
of  her  hands,  in  the  throb  of  the  blood  beating  at 
her  temples,  in  the  pulsing  of  her  throat  like  the 
grip  of  a  giant  clutch.  All  the  strength,  all  the 
courage,  all  the  fury  of  all  her  ancestors  who  had 
fought  their  way  up,  generation  after  generation, 
from  savagery  to  humanhood — rushed  into  her 
blood,  her  nerves,  her  muscles,  her  brain,  in  a  fluid 
of  flame.  The  quiescent  principles  of  her  girlhood 
suddenly  leaped  into  a  living  Power,  tigerish,  mili- 
tant,  relentless — a    fighting   goodness,    a   goodness 


40  6 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


that  realized  as  though  the  fiat  had  been  flamed  in 
letters  of  fire  that  goodness  must  be  strong. 

How  bitterly  she  remembered  those  drawings  of 
the  tenement  vices,  of  humanity  struggling  in  the 
cesspool,  while  smug  respectability  pushed  helpless- 
ness back  in  the  mire  and  itself  paraded  the  world 
in  a  white  vest!  How  little  she  had  thought  that 
the  hand  of  the  cesspool  could  reach  up  into  her 
own  life,  that  the  iniquities  of  the  underworld  could 
poison  the  lives  of  the  upper!  It  came  to  her  like 
a  flash  why  the  pagans  despised  pity,  and  subordi- 
nated pity  always  to  justice.  There  was  no  pity  in 
her  heart  for  the  face  in  the  locket,  but  a  boundless 
fury  at  outraged  justice  over  the  face  on  the  pillow. 
There  was  something  primordial,  elemental,  un- 
crushable,  deathless — like  the  power  drawing  the 
cataract  willing  to  be  shattered  over  the  precipice 
so  that  it  but  reach  the  sea — in  the  sudden  trans- 
mutation of  her  quiescent  idealism  into  a  tigerish 
reality. 

The  stopping  of  the  hansom,  the  driver's  protest 
about  having  been  paid,  the  porter's  queer  look  at 
the  sword  cane  in  her  hand,  the  elevator  boy's  ver- 
bose explanations  about  a  friend  having  asked  for 
the  key  to  her  apartments  and  gone  upstairs  to  wait 

were  a  dream.     She  did  not  pause  to  wonder  at 

the  fact  of  her  apartment  door  being  unlocked,  or 
at  the  light  burning  dimly  under  the  red  shade  of 
the  studio.  Afterwards,  she  recalled  that  a  faint 
odor  of  perfume  had  floated  through  the  rooms. 
She  passed  swiftly  to  the  inner  sitting  room,  switch- 


MADELINE  MEETS  THE  SHADOW  407 

ing  on  the  electric  light  as  she  entered.  A  figure, 
sitting  bowed  in  the  deep  alcove  of  an  open  window, 
sprang  from  the  curtains. 

"Madeline— at  last— thank  Heaven  I  I  did  not 
hear  you  come  in:  those  trucks  make  such  a  rat- 
tling! You  must  forgive  my  boldness,  but  I  could 
not  go  till  I  saw  you  I  I  tipped  the  porter  to  give 
me  your  key— told  him  I  was  your  brother,"  and 
Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  stood  before  her  debonair  and 
buoyant  under  the  full  blaze  of  the  electric  chande- 
lier. 

"You I"  she  said. 

Involuntarily,  she  had  drawn  back,  gathering  the 
folds  of  her  skirt  behind  in  the  hand  holding  the 
sword  cane. 

"Yes  .  .  .  Madeline  ....  it  is  I !  Why  have 
you  never  answered  all  my  letters?" 

||Letters?"  she  repeated  in  a  low,  tense  voice. 

"^^ you  did  not  get  them?     I  suspected 

my  poor  fond  mother  had  a  hand  in  this! 
Why  do  you  draw  back?"  he  asked,  advancing  anx- 
iously. 

"Yes— why?  Isn't  it  strange?"  she  repeated 
woodenly. 

"Have  I  been  too  bold  coming  here  this  way, 
Madeline?  Great  God,  Madeline,  you  will  not  al' 
low  the  little  mean  conventionalities  to  come  be- 
tween us  now?  .  .  .  What  do  these  looks  mean? 
....  Have  spiteful  tongues  spoken  against  me? 
....  I  tell  you,  Madeline  ....  you  are  too  pure 
to  know  the  traps  for  men;  I  tell  you  it's  an  easy 


4o8 


THF    NF.W    DAWN 


thing  for  a  woman  who  has  trapped  a  man,  who 
has  pursued  him  with  unblushing  shame,  who  has 
played  on  his  chivalry  to  her  womanhood,  on  his 

sympathy,  on  his  friendship it  is  easy  for  her 

to  lay  the  blame  on  hi.u  and  traduce  his  name! 
I  .  .  .  .  have  not  deceived  you !  I  have  not  even 
tried  to  derive  you !  I  have  not  been  what  I  ought, 
but  you  can  make  a  good  man  of  me!  I  have 
sinned  .  .  .  . !  I  do  not  steal  into  your  life  with  a 
lie!    I  have  done  what  I  ought  not,  but  what's  done 

is  done,  and  only  you you  alone,  of  all  women 

...  can  help  me  to  live  a  new  life,  to  leave  the 
wasted  foolish  past!" 

He  had  grown  pale  with  his  passion.  She  saw 
him  steady  himself  against  the  bacli  of  a  chair.  His 
voice  was  smothered,  agitated,  tremulous,  and  his 
eyes  burning.  Madeline  Connor  did  not  speak.  She 
had  recoiled  till  she  was  standing  in  the  dim  outer 
room.  No  color  flushed  and  waned  as  of  old  in 
her  cheeks.  She  was  white  to  the  lips,  with  eyes 
that  blazed  a  blackness,  all  her  strength,  all  her 
will,  all  her  courage,  all  her  unbending  pride— held 
high  in  the  unconscious  poise  of  chin  and  neck,  in 
the  imperious  flash  of  the  eyes  no  longer  gray  but 
dilated  to  a  blackness  of  fire. 

How  splendid  she  looked  in  her  disdain,  in  her 
haughty  beauty  flashed  a  fire,  in  her  insolent  re- 
bellion against  the  pleadings  of  his  passion'  He 
had  not  expected  her  to  take  it  this  way  1  Other 
conquests  had  melted  to  his  will.     Her  pride  only 


MADELINE   MEETS  THE   SHADOW  409 

piqued  his  passion.     It  was  like  conquering  an  em 
press,  taming  an  eagle!  '4uenng  an  em- 

but  I  yearned  for  you  with  such  a  longing  .    '  '  ^h 
vo„  ;n\i,         u   .  "^^  '°''^  '""''  ''»^-'--  whispered  to 

■  •  .  .  ■unshed  to  prav  till  i  <rrp«,  t«  1  1    " 

love  was  1-ii   T     '  ^  °  ''"°'^  ^^'^at  pure 

and  the  foil  -  of  it-M. Ir  u     "''^  P''"'^"'' 

life  seem--"^  °2:.;^-M^f '"^.  you  have  made  my 

of  hone  f;^"r}j";  ■  ■  ■   7"  '^''^'^  been  like  a  star 

"nr'    l"  u'^,     ^^"-^^^  ''^^  ''='^'^  t°  God " 

IJo,  she  broke  out  passionately,  "do  but  whife 
-sh  your  crimes  with  a  little  .-eligion,  wi  h  a  li  tie" 
hypocr.sy,  with  a  little  affectation  of  ;,elodrama  c 
repcntance-and  I  think  I  can  learn  .  .      T  lah 

'"^  TfoTe^.■^h  •  \'^^  ^"" -- •  •  -'^' 

out  the  locket  '  '"  '  '°^  ^°-'^^'  ""''^''^^ 

woman';  "you    ^'''"'""  "  "  "  '  ^''^""^  'he 

woman!     You   were  young Great  God' 

fourTui^^""'""™^ "  ^'^""8  ^'^'"S  °f  thirty: 

^""..lons^"™'""^'  ^"d  f!ii^  girl  ...  this 


410 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


country  girl too  weak,  too  ignorant  to  de- 
fend herself  ....  whom  you  took  by  the  throat 
and  cast  down  to  Hell,  .  ...  she  ...  .  was  a  De- 
lilah, ....  a  siren,  ....  a  temptress  that  sheared 
her  young  Samson  of  his  virgin  strength,  .... 
his  virgin  name!    Hypocrite!....    Does  a  lewder 

thing, a  more  despicable,  craven  thing  .  .  . 

than  you  walk  the  earth  outside  of  Hell?" 

He  had  covered  his  face  with  his  arms. 

"Child!"  he  stammered  out,  "you  do  not  under- 
stand  " 

"You  did  not  ...  .  murder it?"  she 

said,  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "No!  ....  Tha-  would 
have  been  unsafe;  ....  That  would  have  been 
too  manly,  ....  too  outright!  ....  You  might 
have  been  arrested!  .  .  .  You  m'  i  '^  had  to 
face  your  act, to  have      '  '  .  ?me  un- 

pleasant circumstances!  ....  Bui  yuu  ordered  the 
nurse  away  ....  and  let  it  starve!  And,  when 
your  victim  ...  oh  ...  .  you  chose  your  victim 
....  well,  ....  when  she  cast  herself  at  your 
feet  ....  you  ....  you  laughed!  .  .  .  Don't  you 

see  what  a  brilliant splendid  ....  manly 

feat  it  was  ...  to  murder  a  new-born  child  so  clev- 
erly that  the  law  could  not  catch  you,  and  then 
...  to  laugh?  ....  To  bind  a  poor,  simple  coun- 
try girl  ....  to  you  ....  in  crime     to 

threaten  to  have  her  hanged  if  she  tried  to  break 

from  your  vile  ties,  ....  and  then, to 

laugh!  .  .  Great  God  ....  the  r''' WaJ  .^hat  feed 
on  their  own  flesh  could  not  .\es*  ^er  pr' 


MADELINE   MEETS  THE  SHADOW  4.. 

"Madeline for  God's  sake stop!" 

he  p  eaded.    "Have  you  no  pity?"    He  was  S 

"Pri"  H  '';"  "!:''^""'  "'  ^"^^  "-'»  hfs  lips' 
h,/  ^  t  I  '''"^'''"  ""S  aloud.  "What  pity 
had   you    for   her  you   trampled   into   the   gutter? 

Inr^I        r?    P"^  '''''  y°"  ^°^  'he  woman;  .  .  . 

nto  vvhose  l,fe  you  stole  like  a  thief  because  you 

h  need  to  know  that  she  was  unhappy  with  her  hu," 

„,       .'  ■■■."••  ^^°^^  ^'^«  you  wrecked  for  a 

sonspasfme;..,, hose   wretchedness    you 

sucked    as    a    vampire    sucks    blood?  .  .  .  Pitji" 

She  laughed  again.    "Who  said pi„f       ^ 

What.s  .p,v,.      .  .  .  .  Pity?  ^'.  ;  N„| 

and  boast  of  our  cnmes  over  poor  fools  with  neithei: 

w.t,  nor  strength,  nor  coura„.e to  strike  down 

to  nethermost  Hell   .  .   .  .%uch   as  ^ou       Leu 
augh  and  boast   and  point  the  finger  of  scorn  I 

wn  m'm°'u',       "■'"'"  ^°''  ^'•i^h  ^  lynched  negro 
would  blush!  .  .  .  There  goes  a  woman  to  Hdll 

.Our  work!  ....  Ha-ha!   .  .   .  Laugh! 

•  •  .  .  A  mans  work!     Hypocrite,"  she  said    "a 

beast  of  prey  could  not  do  so  vile;  thing! 

"^l'" a  man!" 

He  had  paused  pacing  in  blind  distraction.    Now 

e  turned  w.th  a  threatening  look.    Civilization  had 

fallen   from   them   both   like  a   rag.     They  were 

M  ct  elemental.    The  recrudescence  of  his  past 

ot  generations  of  pasts  reaching  back  .  .  .  .'  had 


412  THE    NEW    DAWN 

crushed  down  his  momentary  aspirations.     Behind 
him  was  his  own  down-drawing  life  ....  the  hfe 
of  his  ancestors  ....  the  life  of  a  type  that  slowly 
receded  into  a  past,  when  men  were  thmgs  of  prey. 
B-fore  him  were  vague  hopes  of  a  Better  1    Lmkmg 
that  past  to  the  hopes  was  the  thread  of  the  present, 
which  snapped  under  the  onset  of  her  accusations 
like  a  cobweb  holding  a  craft  from  the  vortex  of  a 
maelstrom,  plunging  his  manhood  back  m  all  the 
turbid  brutalities  of  primordial  man.     His  manhood 
sloughed  off  the  courtesies  of  the  ages  like  a  vest- 
ment. ,       ,      ,1        f        » 
"Madeline,"  he  interrupted  sharply,    you  forget 
that  manhood  has  its  penalties  as  well  as  its  court- 
esies 1     You  forget  that  outraged  manhood  may  be 
compelled  to  defend  itself,  even  against  one  whom  it 
would  die  to  defend!     You  are  taking  advantage 
of  your  sex!     If  you  were  a  man  1  should  compel 
you  to  retract  those  words  1    By  Heaven,"  he  cned, 
wheeling,   "you  shall  take  them  back!     They  are 
a  vile  calumny!     You  have  forfeited  the  chivalry 

that  strength  owes  a  woman- " 

"Strength?"  she  laughed.    "Chivalry? U'd 

you  say  chivalry?" 

"You  shrew,"  he  muttered,  with  a  sudden  menace 
of  his  hands,  "have  you  no  fear?" 
"None,  .  .  .  ."  she  laughed. 
"Is  your  rage  so  blind  that  you  do  not  reahze 
vour  position?"  he  demanded. 

"So   ....   very blind,"    she  mocked, 

neither  swerving  nor  moving  her  eyes  from  his. 


MADELINE  MEETS  THE  SHADOW  4,3 

•   •   •   .  would  you  eive  fh„  ,    . 

••••  at  this  hour alone?" 

Again  that  vision  of  a  pleading  face  down  in 
the  niire  under  the  horses'  hoofs!  One  touch  of  h" 
.mag,nat,on  had  already  transformed  thi3  woLan 
who  was  to  save  hin,  from  destruction  nri 
whom  he  would  destroy.  She  should  pay  a  life 
penalty  for  that  spurning  of  his  repentance,  for  hat 
um,,at,on  of  his  manhood.     She  had  la'ughed  a 

all  h,s  hfe.    He  would  send  the  echo  of  that  laught  r 
down  the  rest  of  her  Wfi-  m  ,  k       •  ""!,nter 

no  tears  could  wipe  l'"''"^"'"«^^Sret  that 

Hal  That  was  like  a  woman!  To  strip  asid,- 
courtesy  and  then  cry  out  when  the  defens  Tf  cTur 
tesy  was  stripped  from  her! 

i.If^i'.'iLsrAn'","!;;;::^:;"  "'"1  "■• 

„  •  ^1          ,  .               'Ill  1  dSK  is  that  you  sit  down 
quietly  and  let  me  explain  how " 

.,}^' aT  ^"'"^"^-     "^  ^^^  unmasked  when  he 

unrestramed  from  the  moment  he  had  spoken. 


414  THE   NEW   DAWN 

There  was  the  splintering  of  the  bamboo  sword 
case.  The  sheath  flew  across  the  floor  in  broken 
bits  and  Dorval  Hebden  stumbled  backward  with 
both  hands  to  his  face,  a  flash  of  limber  steel  glitter- 
ing in  circles  across  his  eyes.  _ 

"That  1  should  stoop  to  soil  my  hand  striking  a 
thing      ...  so  vile  ....  as  you  1     Choose  your 

victim  wiser  next  time! H  you  rise  on  your 

feet,"  she  whispered,  bending  over  him,  it  you  rise 
upon  your  feet  in  my  presence,  I  swear  I  will  murder 
youl  You  threaten  my  name?  And  .s  bUickmail 
worse  th-'n  ,n  ;rder  and  worse  crime  that  I  should 
fear  so  slight  a  thing?  Before  God,  .....  she 
said,  "if  you  lay  so  much  as  one  hand  on  the  outer- 
most hem  of  my  garments,  if  you  utter  so  much  as 
one  breath  across  my  name, J   «"*"  i^'" 

you  I 

She  threw  open  the  hall  door. 

"Go,"  she  pointed. 

In  the  hall  the  porter  saw  a  man  dashing  down 
the  stair-  to  avoid  the  elevator.  A  handkerchief 
was  across  his  face.  He  ran  as  one  distraught, 
reeling  against  the  railing  and  rushing  out  into  the 
street,  not  seeing  where  he  went.  The  porter  fol- 
lowed  in  time  to  see  a  man  sink  back  m  a  "b,  curs- 
ing  and  sobbing— then  the  driver  whipped  off  like 

'"''Madeline  locked  the  door  of  her  studio.  A  man's 
hat  lay  on  the  desk.  She  seized  it  and  hurled  the 
thing  through  the  open  window  as  far  as  she  could 
throw     Then  she  sank  down  in  a  horror  of  shame. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


AFTERWARDS 

'ng  us  grave  with  the  outcasts;  vices  recant    th 
wronged  under  the  feet  of  the  wro  ge  "S  ;hut 
■ng  .ts  eyes,  shutting  its  ears,  drawing    £  asije 
from  unha  lowed  hands;  respectability  bulwark  n. 
crime;  justice  asleep  I  ■"/  omwarking 

If  man  were  but  an  intellectual  brute  why  did  a 
queasy  conscience  give  the  lie  to  his  creld  of  th 
Great  Blonde  Beast?  Animals  were  red  in  tooth 
w.  hout  a  qualm.  fVhy  did  man  try  to  hide  o 
ju  t,fy  to  argufy  his  crime?  The  humani '  d  dog 
might  be  aught  shame  of  its  bird-killing,  its  sheepco^ 

S  him;ei;  Vt  ""'^  ='"™='''"'^  --  -"'d  "0° 
IT  '^'""'-  •  •  •  Why?     And,  strangely 

Madl:  r"  ^^^\.l--r.s..r.A  question' that  hdd 
Madeline  Connor  like  an  anchor  back  from  the 
shoreless  seas  of  the  vague  fatalism  that  sToftt 

Another   thought   held   her  to   the   sane   whole 
someness  of  life.     It  was  Truesdale.    Hebden  htd 
4IS 


4i6 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


vowed  love,  invoked  religion,  actually  believed  in 
himself  up  to  the  moment  when  a  stroke  of  steel  en- 
lightened his  sight.  Trucsdale  had  said  little  of  love 
and  less  of  religion;  but  had  lived  both  and  held 
the  faster  when  all  went  down  under  the  smash  of 
the  actual  test.  Wherever  there  is  a  man  to  stand 
up  against  the  Nebuchadne./er  creed  of  existence 
there  will  also  be  a  woman;  and  that  lost  paradise 
of  which  Hebden  poetized  and  unto  which  ho  would 
have  stolen  may  be  realized. 

At  davbreak  Madeline  roje  from  the  sofa  with 
an  ill-deiinod  dread  of  meeting  Mrs.  Ward.  She 
could  neither  have  told  nor  left  untold  what  had 
passed.  Life  ebbed  too  low  in  her  veins,  she  was  too 
thoroughly  shattered  in  body  and  mind  for  any  con- 
cealment; but  Mrs.  Ward  did  not  come.  Had  Heb- 
den been  at  work  with  a  mincing  smile,  a  shrug,  a 
faint,  deprecating  gesture;  drawing  a  herring  across 
the  trail  of  his  own  guilt?  Clouding  the  waters  with 
unclean  suggestions,  as  the  cuttlefish  clouds  the  sea 
to  escape  in  its  own  slime? 

Genuine  suffering  hides  from  sight  like  a  burn 
from  air;  and  Madeline  could  no  more  have  written 
to  Truesdale  and  told  the  extremity  of  her  need 
than  an  eagle  could  have  transformed  itself  to  a 
reptile.  The  eagle  may  drop  dead— it  will  not 
crawl-  it  may  be  the  victim  of  parasites— it  will 
not  become  a  parasite.  The  transfer  of  bric-a-brac, 
bronzes,  and  books  to  a  Thirty-fourth  Street  ]unk 
shop  nened  sufficient  returns  to  pay  another  month  s 
rent.    By  accepting  a  cheaper  kind  of  work  she  was 


aftj:r\v.\rds  ^,7 

able  to  meet  her  other  expenses;  but  this  necessitated 
domg  more  of  the  cheaper  work  to  make  .  h  h' 
had  formerly  received  for  a  single  drawing  I  have 
often  wondered  if  Mr,.  Ward  had  thought  mo  e 

it  wo  utoTh"'  '"^  °V.''^  ^'  ''"■'  '--vheX 
me  en  he  A7r''f  ^''  """  P""-hmcnt;  but 
Ime  can  be  selfish;  and  selfishness  wields  its  own 

After  sending  the  dead  woman  s  body  I  ome  to 
M  Gee,    the    labor    leader,    in    the    norther,    city 

htcu"f:7'";,';""°^''''''<^=«J-kardto 
h  ,  cup-for    orgetfulness.     \ight  came,  not  with 
sleep    but   we,r<l   dream    fugues,    tranced    <r  ooTm 
myst,c    so  that  she  hardly  knew-  wheth  r  st  h    ,' 
passed  the  n.ght  sleeping  or  waking.     Now  she  wt 
on  the  edge  of  the  precipice  with 'he  mil    ,os  ng 
about  her    so  that  she  could  not  take  one  step  for' 
ward  or  back ;  and  the  precipice  was  life.       ^ 

^7  '^  ^vas  the  figure  of  a  running  man  on  the 
\         -.     .  .    -recp.ce;  and  the  man  was  humanity. 

.  .    nt  :„     1     .J     ^"^''*   "■'*''   '^'  darkening 
^^  .nt..,n.  loakmg  down  impassive,   stonily,   spirits 

f  ev,    mockmg  the   puny  creature  disturbing' 
Ton  sdences  w.th  his  cries.     And  ever,  as  he  rn 

an   the    wolves   at   his   heels-I.ust    and    Ihn^e  ' 
Poverty  and   Vice-driving  over   ,hc   prcc  pi  "To 

LfoT^/b'-^""^'  ""''''■     ^^"^-^'- dream 
came    t  palsied  her  power  for  work;   for  another 

rrir' "■''"""<' ""-"■""■"""™'- 

On„  she  fc.„,d  .he  ,.,  b,ct  In  ,he  d.y,  „( 


4i8 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


prosperity,  before  Ward's  stock  jobbing  had  pau- 
perized and  killed  her  father.  The  graveled  walks 
ran  through  lawns  as  smooth  as  velvet.  The  light 
sifted  through  the  park  in  shafts;  and  her  mother 
came  down  the  path  leading  a  little  girl  with  red 
curls;  but  the  child  was  crying.  Madeline  awak- 
ened sobbing. 

To  all  this  could  be  only  one  end.  It  came  one 
morning  when  she  had  somehow  succeeded  in  dress- 
ing and  hauling  herself  downstairs  to  the  dinmg 
table,  when  her  coffee  cup  slopped  round  in  her 
hand  like  a  beam  sea.  Madeline  could  not  lift  it 
to  her  lips.  A  great  medical  specialist  lived  in  the 
downstairs  front  rooms  of  the  apartment  house. 
Madeline  went  to  see  him. 

"How  in  the  name  of  thunder  have  you  been 
tuckering  yourself  out?"  he  asked  jocosely.  "What 
have  you  been  doing?" 

"Work,"  confessed  Madeline  meekly. 
"And  -vorry— eh?"  added  the  doctor  gently. 
And  what  did  she  do;  and  why  did  she  work;  and 
was  it  ambition  or  necessity;  oh,  it  was  both  love 
of  work  and  need  of  money,  was  it?— a  bad  com- 
bination; and  where  did  she  live;  and  why  couldn't 
she  go  home;  and  was  there  no  one  to  relieve  her— 
give  her  a  breathing  spell— so  to  speak?  And  many 
more  questions,  which  Madeline  answered.  Some- 
how, this  great  doctor  gave  her  that  impression  of 
the  untold  goodness  beating  under  unchurched  vest- 
ments. The  doctor  stroked  his  bald  spot,  and 
studied  her  through  his  glasses. 


AFTERWARDS  ^, 

The  doctor  smoked  hi;  blld  "°""  '""'*  ''"• 
laughed.  Madeline  I  ^^  '^  '"'"'  """"  ^"^ 
he  were  not  sjt  "d  , S'  l°j'T  '''.  T'^' 
a  softening  would  help  hef  pluck  XZ  ^^  ?" 
tor  sa  d  does  not  l-,„i,       n   ^  *^"at  the  doc- 

of  his  saZ  i°   but  it        '""'  '""^  '''^  '"^""" 
the  effect 'llf,^  l."^^"  '  ""'^'=  statement  to 

chiwirtheXTrn^*.  °' '"°-  ^^-  ^"^^  -s 

Look  here,"  he  arlHpr!   "t  l 

the  .cord  b/teinSg^'/o^VtluTh..'"'"'^'''''-^'' 
ihe  artist  smiled  feebly,  feeling  all  fh.     u; 

'ToI^^eno^lkind'V^-""'  "''''  '^•"  '^  ^^'d. 

and  flatte;:'::;dti?pi,irv::  r^r^- 

women  who  come  to^me   o  be  flattered    T'""1 
and  wept  over  couldn't  be  cS^e^forgo  j'aK 

;:^rg^:;-^f~S^ 

Wt.„  an,  more  unless  ;r;°.^e^7t^S 

'■I  suspected  as  much  from  a  sudden  piety  in  the 
reg.on  of  my  knees,"  she  said  ironically.     ^ 


420 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"If  you  rest,  if  you  crawl  off  into  a  hole,  or  go 
off  to  the  wilds  and  play  ihe  savage  ten  thousand 
miles  away  from  worry  and  work  and  too  much 
thinking,  nature  won't  fail  youl  If  I  were  a 
woman,"  he  broke  out,  "I'd  be  a  dairy-maid  before 
I  would  be  sucked  under  by  this  maelstrom!  It's 
this  damnable  pride  and  ambition  and  high  pres- 
sure and  foolish,  dilettante  daintiness — instead  of 
just  resting  in  the  eternal  order  of  things — that  is 
playing  the  mischief  with  modern  life!  An  office 
man  earns  the  salary  of  a  workman;  and  the  office 
man's  wife  wants  to  live  the  lazy  life  of  a  queen!" 

To  all  of  which  Madeline  agreed;  but  what  was 
the  use  of  knowing  what  ought  to  be  done  when  it 
was  impossible?  That  was  the  dead  wall,  the  im- 
passe, the  negation  of  her  faith  in  the  order  of 
things. 

"I  can  give  you  something  to  wind  you  up;  but 
the  snap  will  be  all  the  more  disastrous  when  it 
comes!  Don't  mistake — ours  is  the  suicide  age! 
We  attempt  so  much  that  we  attain  nothing  but  leave 
to  quit!  If  you  were  my  daughter  I'd  pack  you  off 
to  a  backwoods  village  a  week  away  from  telegrams 
and  paints  and  letters !"  And  he  gave  her  the  pre- 
scription. 

The  medicine  she  took  in  quantities  that  would 
have  surprised  the  doctor;  but  she  could  not  work. 
Besides,  she  saw  how  poor  this  forced  work  became. 
If  she  stopped  working  she  might  as  well  stop  liv- 
ing. If  she  went  on  working — what?  The  final 
snap;  so  she  ceased  to  pray.    She  ceased  to  hope. 


God  seemed  so  fa 


AFTERWARDS 


support.     5^S,  w     f^"''  ^°  ^'""  '^"  "'Cher's 
stock  jobbln.  waTroL  ^^   '^''•■"   '"''^   ^''^^  ^is 

she  had  been?     Ward's  hT.h  ^^      '°  '^'""''^  ^' 

opposite  page  for  daily  comment     ThS     T         ' 
was  headed  in  print:  'fexTs-Trle  f      J  p"^  ^'^^ 

giy  tnat  she  could  not  get  away  from  the  truth. 


4aa  THE   NEW    DAWN 

ments  penned  on  the  blank  pages  of  the  birthday 
book.    Here  are  some  of  them: 

We  cannot  break  law.    The  law  breaks  us. 

Unless  we  hitch  our  efforts  to  the  movements  of 
law  God  Himself  cannot  answer  prayer. 

"When  I  was  a  child  I  spake  as  a  child"  •  •  •  ■  • 

"The  bed  is  shorter than  a  man  can  stretch 

himself  on the  covermgs  narrower  than 

he  can  wrap  himself  in" 1  wonder  did  Pau 

and  Isaiah,  too,  find  the  creeds  too  narrow  to  fi 
facts?     They  didn't  shut  their  eyes,   g.ve  up  the 
facts,   and  talk  twaddle  about  resignation  to  the 
Devil.    Neither  do  I. 

Is  law  in  its  essence  love? 

If  one  keeps  drawing  on  faith  without  realiza- 
tion there  comes  bankruptcy. 

The  ultimatum  of  all  faith,  all  love,  all  hope,  all 
creed  is — fact. 

Wrath  of  God :  violation  of  law.  That  is  at  least 
rational. 


Knowledge  comes  through  pr-m. 


Though  God  sees  the  sparrow  fa'l  He  does  not 
stop  its  death. 


AFTERWARDS  ^23 

Innocence  is  no,  its  own  protecHon.     Angels  do 
no,  guard  innocence.     That  is  poetic-  butlfis  ^ 


Shall  we  say  "God's  will  be  done"  to  evil?    Is 
Gods  W.1,  then    evil?     Shall  we  sav  "God's  wi 
b     done'   and-fight  the  evil?     Isn't  M.,  God' 


Goodness  mu.t  be  a  fighter;  or  go  out  of  com- 
m.ss,o„  ana  g.ve  a  new  creed  the  chance.  Good- 
ness must  conquer  or— quit! 


There  is  no  mistaking  plain  facts.  Shall  I  hide 
my  eyes  from  pain  from  sorrow,  from  wrong? 
bhall  I  give  a  palliative  to  the  Devil,  saying  "God's 
W.11  be  done"  to  what^I^or,  shall  I-fght^ 

cZtltu  '"  J°'l"i^the  way,  not  through 
creeds,  not  through  prayers,  but  by  bruised  feet. 

leastTl?"" '"p-  ^^hen,die!  That  is  the 
east  of  sorrow.  Better  die  than  not  try;  better  die 
than  be  conquered!  <=iicr  aie 


snould  I  blaspheme  the  wheel  ? 

Circumstances  are  the  rock;  law  the  bonds  bind- 
'ng  man  to  .t;  necessity  the  vulture  eating  his  vitals. 


II ' 


424  THE   NEW   DAWN 

Christ,  too,  had  to  choose  between  the  easy  way 
and  life  or  the  hard  way  and  death.  He  chose  to 
die  rather  than  submit;  and  He  conquered.  If  a 
Christ  dared  to  speak  the  truth  to-day  would  He 
not  be  hooted  and  crucified  just  the  same? 

If  you  steal  small,  it  is  crime.  If  you  steal  big,  it 
is  a  credit.  If  you  murder  a  woman  openly,  quickly, 
mercifully,  it  is  a  crime.  If  you  murder  her  secretly, 
slowly,  cruelly,  in  the  name  of  love,  it  is — a  joke. 
The  fiends  of  Hell  must  have  much  laughter. 

For  as  long  as  time  lasts  I  send  my  thoughts 
across  the  darkening  dark  to  youl  As  an  all-con- 
taining space  carries  electric  waves  to  outermost 
bounds  of  infinity,  so  an  all-containing  deity,  power, 
entity,  which  I  call  God  and  you  call  Force,  carries 
this  thought  from  me  to  you  1  As  long  as  time  lasts 
you  shall  never  escape  the  mute  pleadings!  If  there 
be  any  hope  in  Heaven  or  Hell;  if,  sometimes  in 
the  still  night,  hope  streams  through  the  starlight 
with  memories  of  a  peaceful  past  and  joyful  inno- 
cence; if  sometimes  in  laughter  come  remorse  and 
self-loathing;  if  sometimes  you  wonder  why  "the 
light  that  never  was  on  land  or  sea"  has  gone  for 
you  from  laughing  summers;  if  sometimes  a  mem- 
ory comes  of  a  peace  too  deep  for  words;  if  God 
is  not  a  joke  and  purity  a  dream  of  sleeping  ser- 
pents; if  sometimes  the  baying  of  the  vild  beasts 
quiets  so  that  you  hear  once  more  the  silent  voice, 
then  know  that  I  call  on  you  in  the  name  of  Christ 


AFTERWARDS 


42s 

to  arise  and  follow  the  light!    To  cast  the  n-,cf  ( 
ever  behind!    To  slough'off  th.  sk       ftL'      ptu 

race  of  the  swft  and  the  strong  to  the  highest  goal! 

What  is  love?_A  fire!     What  are  we?-The 
burnmg!     If  pu,e,  the  fire  becomes  a  light-  if  i! 
pure-fury,  smoke,  destruction,  ashes. 

Shelterless  for  the  t"^  is  the  homeless  city! 
On   all   s.des,   at  all   times,   in   all   places,   are  the 

do!    the  ch      IT'"?'  ^^'^P^'"«-  *-P''"g'   Wha 
does  the  church  for  the  unchurched  ?_Bids  them 

TsL^d'^rom  the^r^  "^'^^'--'"  ^  P^''  ^"^ 

ofTj!  t"™  °!,'''^  '^"d  will  disturb  the  sleep 
of  the  slayer.  Does  the  dream  of  murdered  in 
nocence  disturb  those  asleep  in  Zion? 

All  the  toilers  need  is  rest,  rest,  a  little  hope,  a 
Me  love.  Who  .s  there  to  say  "Come  in  and  rest"  ? 
None  to  g,ve  the  cup  of  cold  water  for  love's  sake 
m  the  name  of  Christ.  Pause,  you  busy  women 
who  would  emancipate^theworld,  and  thilof  lat! 

If  I  must  die,  O  God,  let  me  die  bravely!    If  I 
am  not  strong  enough  to  battle  for  right,  and  truth 
and  punty,  let  me  die-trying,  fighting-'     Savx  me 
from  self.p,ty;  from  the  love  that  is  not  love;  from 


4a6 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


the  goodness  that  is  compromise;  from  the  purity 
that  is  whitewash;  from  the  resignation  that  is 
weakness;  from  the  piety  that  is  an  insurance  pohcy 
against  fear;  from  the  righteousness  that  only  masks 
servile  fear  of  the  Devil !  Let  me  not  hide  my  eyes 
from  the  ti  ith!  Let  me  not  know  fear  of  aught 
but  my  own  cowardice!  Let  me  die  brave,  rather 
than  live  a  coward!  Let  me  not  draw  my  skirts 
aside  from  unhallowed  blood!  Let  me  die  brave, 
or  live  strong!  Save  me  from  the  reptile  virtues 
that  cringe,  that  crawl,  that  dodge  truth  and  shirk 
difficulty!  .  .  .  "by well-doing  ....  seek- 
ing   for  glory,  honor,  immortality  .... 

eternal  life  I" 


If  woman,  stripped  of  womanhood,  be  but  rep- 
tile; and  man,  stripped  of  manhood,  be  but  beast: 
better  n.adness  and  death  than  dust. 

Teach  me  to  laugh  at  death;  and  be  •  •  ■  •  • 
Strong  1    Teach  Spirit  to  be  Stronger  than  the  Great 

Blond  Beast! 

*  *  *  * 

A  week  after  she  saw  the  doctor  came  Trues- 
dale's  letter.    It  was  almost  telegraphic  in  brevity: 

Enclosed  find  check  for  ruby.  Chap  I  "Id  you  of  paid 
gladly.  Trust  I  did  not  let  ,t  go  too  cheap.  Dela>  called 
by  chap  having  to  wait  for  the  money-he  asked  for  time. 

Don't  forget. 

1  am, 

Yours  to  comqiandi 
J.  T. 


AFTERWARDS  427 

P.  S.— Think  you  should  take  a  holiday.  Can  sell 
all   those  jewels  to  that   ruby  crank   if  you  say  so. 

J.  T. 

Madeline  looked  at  the  check.  It  was  five  hun- 
dred for  the  smallest  of  the  rubies.  She  looked 
again,  dazed,  unsteadily.  She  fingered  it.  Then 
she  began  to  laugh  softly,  her  eyes  wells  of  glad 
tears. 

"Thank  God,"  she  was  saying,  "oh,  thank  God  t 
It  isn't  the  money;  but,  oh,  thank  God,  love  is 
is  really lovel" 

She  slept  that  night  without  medicine  or  dreams, 
but  all  the  while,  sleeping  or  waking,  a  floating 
consciousness  suffused  her  existence  like  a  light  of 
transfiguration,  a  consciousness  that  love  was  love, 
that  God  was  not  an  attenuated  joke,  that  truth  and 
puri»y  and  goodness  were  as  real  and  strong  and 
faithful  as  Death  itself. 

Two  days  afterwards,  "the  boys"  in  the  news- 
paper rooms  were  saying,  "there  seemed  a  kind  of 
goneness  about  the  office."  Madeline  had  taken 
the  train  for  a  backwoods,  habitant  village  on  the 
St.  Lawrence. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 


WHEN   LABOR   ADOPTS   THE   BRUTE    CREED 

The  ethics  of  Hunger  versus  the  ethics  ot  Power 
— when  these  two  become  pitted  against  each  other 
it  is  not  surprising  that  Hunger  becomes  excited 
first.  The  stimulus  is  at  the  pit  of  tb-  stomach. 
Anxious  Fright  has  no  time  to  choose  fine  words. 
Power  can  afford  to  be  cool.  There  is  no  gnawing 
of  Hunger,  of  P'ear,  of  Desperation. 

The  record  of  two  or  three  old-world  democra- 
cies should  have  taught  observers  by  this  time  that 
Demos  is  apt  to  take  short  cuts  to  justice  when  he 
is  roused  by  hunger  or  outrage;  that  Demos  is  even 
foolish  enough  to  prefer  a  despotism,  whose  justice 
is  swift  and  sure,  to  a  democracy  whose  justice  is  at 
the  mercy  of  a  blackguard  sharper  of  the  lawyer 
species  or  a  light  woman  carrying  the  corruption 
of  bribery  in  one  hand,  flesh  in  the  other.  These 
struggles  bnvcen  patrician  and  plebeian,  rich  and 
poor,  were  called  revolutions  in  ancient  days,  and 
invariably  led  to  the  downfall  of  democracy  and 
the  upbuilding  of  a  despotism.  We,  of  to-day,  call 
such  strugii;les  "problems,"  "questions  of  capital  and 
labor."  Questions  they  iuidoubtedly  are,  with  an 
4>8 


LABOR  AND  THK  BUVTE  CKKl^D   4., 

our  Lord,  the  pX  „  prj  ''"'  '"  ''"^J"^  "^ 
If  twelve,  in  the  co.nl^^^nrT; ':"'"'! 
Happmes,.  miscarriages  of  ju"  ic  /h  m  "  ''  ""^ 
of  the  lawyer  species    fh/  ^""''~''"=  blackRuard 

dual  bribeino Tonge;  lead  ^Z  "  7'"''"  ""''  ""= 
much  more  terrible       u  ■^""'"t'on,  but  to  a 

Lawlessness!  •  ""'''"^'^''  '"='^-'"=-t  'Lbing- 

hoarsnilVt  t^'^^^'^^^^POs^^^^t.,  himself 
who  think  to  h  nS  rZlvvIe  ""/"'  ''"«^'^'^" 
in.  the  result  inr'/of ^  ^1 '°,::,;'-^  Tf' 
dared  to  his  followers  that  th^  v  re  1  ,  "  ^"  t 
progress  of  the  ■,„^.  f  1  ■  '  .  •'•adcrs  m  the 
.0  5own  to  ste:?:;-,;  f rS;  'fl  '^at  would 
must  sacrifice  their  pee  ,,rt  T''  '^''  ''"^^ 
that  .he  only  way  to  rea'  "  -  u"'"'"   ^°°'^' 

and  meat,   and  cloTh         „d  ^V"''"^^  °"  ^-»d, 

possession  of  all  industries  fhatne'f",  '"  '^"^"'^ 
one  act  of  violence    mTIV     ..  ''''  ''^P  "ow, 

lose  all  fouJht  for  H  ^  ."'  ""'  "'■"^  '"'''■fa  and 
that  Lif  -I  ibe"  T^  '^'  "^'^  ='""^'""  'months: 
cause  to  fight  ^.^^^Hre  3  "  ^'°"°"^  ^ 
the  Great  General   Strike  V  "  ^"P"'' °^ 

^word   and  muske  -       „  V"'"''  ='«°  ^ith 

Jives  and  dau^gtrs,   soVr/Litt  ^d  fd 

tx:;;x;.^;t:t:Sr'^-7^-^" 

had  won-righrs   to  Tir     °r  "'''''  °"^  ^='*f'"=' 
Oneofhis^;:e^.^-;-Ha^n^sr 


43° 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Where'i  Kipp's  corpse?"  followed  by  a  fierce  roar 
of  jeering  laughter. 

"What's  »auce  for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the 
gander!  If  killing's  no  murder  for  Kipp,  it  ain't 
for  Ward";  and  the  straw  effigy  of  the  financier 
was  burned  in  front  of  the  (ircat  Consolidated 
offices.  McGee  had  only  succeeded  in  scattering 
the  malcontents  before  a  squadron  of  mounted  po- 
lice rode  across  the  city  square. 

The  primary  appetites  are  always  riotous;  espe- 
cially hunger;  and  many  of  the  unmarried  miners 
were  already  living  on  what  they  could  shoot  or 
fish,  the  strike  funds  going  to  the  families.    When 
the  suit  against  Truesdale  was  settled  by  compro- 
mise out  of  court,  the  men  felt  themselves  vaguely 
aggrieved.     The  advantage  of  probint;  the  investi- 
gation of  Kipp's  death  had  been  lost,  and  now,  with 
Mrs    Kipp's  evidence  on  record,  the  public  prose- 
cutor refused  to  act.     If  the  Truesdale  mines  had 
been  shut  down,  too,  the  public  would  have  been 
so  short  of  fuel  that  general  indignation  would  have 
compelled  Ward  to  come  to  some  understanding 
with  his  men— a  commission,   arbitration,  legisla- 
tion—anything rather  than  a  sacrifice  of  the  public 
to   a   One-Man-Power;   but   the   Truesdale   mines 
were  working,  and  the  public  were  comfortably  in- 
difFerent  to  the  great  conflict  between  capital  and 
labor.     Every  day  was  exhausting  the  strength  of 
the  strikers.     Every  day  was  strengthening  Ward's 
hand.    The  men  knew  it.    McGee  knew  it. 

He  knew  more,  what  he  scarcely  dared  to  ac- 


LABOR  AND  THE  BRUTE  CREED  431 

knowledge.  No  one  voiced  it,  but  McGee  saw  the 
looks  of  suspicion  when  groups  of  his  followers 
gathered  to  talk  Th.y  no  longer  confided  in  him. 
When  he  jo.ned  the  gr.  ps  they  stopped  talking. 
One  night  when  he  had  been  conferring  with  the 
miners  about  appealing  to  other  unions  for  sup. 
port,  a  man  interrupted  with  the  querulous  demand: 
And  how  long  will  that  take?  Are  we  to  die  of 
'lunger  when  there  is  food  for  the  taking?  It's  all 
'J^l"'lT  ^°  '""'•  M^f^'^-talk's  cheap!  You're 
fixed/  There  the  man  stopped,  for  a  fire  smote 
trom  the  big  leader's  eyes. 

Then  the  union  thought  that  he  had  sold  him- 
self to  I  ruesdale— that  was  it!  Afterwards,  Mc- 
(.ee  went  privately  to  the  man  and  offered  him 
by  way  of  a  loan,"  a  ten  dollar  bill.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  fellow  looked  dazed.  Then  he  burst  into 
a  laugh. 

"Remove  that  damphool,"  he  said.  "Your  char- 
ity IS  cheaper  than  justice,"  and  he  threw  McGee's 
money  into  the  gutter. 

And,  on  top  of  all  this  gradually  dulling  failure, 
came  a  blow  that  crushed  McGee  to  earth  with  a 
shame  that  he  could  neither  fight  nor  face— the  body 
of  his  dead  sister.  He  buried  her  out  in  the  family 
plot  in  the  corner  of  the  wheat  field,  where  the 
mother,  who  had  suicided,  lay.  There  were  no  pall- 
bearers, only  the  boy,  Budd,  and  McGee,  who  ear- 
ned the  cofBn  in  their  arms  from  the  wagon  to  the 
grave. 


432 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


"Who  was  it,  Uncle  Sam  ?"  asked  the  boy,  white- 
faced,  as  they  filled  the  grave. 

McGee  did  not  answer.  He  lifted  the  last  sods 
with  his  hands  and  placed  them  on  the  knr>!l. 

Then  he  sat  down  in  the  gray  autumn  twilight 
with  his  face  between  his  knees.  Again,  it  seemed 
twenty  years  ago.  He  was  a  harvester  out  in  the 
wheat  fields;  she,  a  little  girl  with  red  curls,  carry- 
ing oatmeal  water  out  to  the  workers  in  the  sun.  A 
young  boy  rode  past  on  horseback.  They  said  he 
was  the  son  of  the  great  lady  who  had  bought  a 
country  place  oh  the  adjoining  farm.  Then  it  was 
fifteen  years  later.  He  had  become  head  of  the 
house,  and  the  little  girl  with  the  red  curls  had 
returned  from  the  Methodist  Young  Ladies'  Acad- 
emy with  the  love-light  in  her  eye,  and  the  day- 
blush  in  her  cheeks,  and  bits  of  poetry  full  of  all 
sorts  of  crazy  yearnings  at  her  tongue  tip,  and  the 
prettiest,  daintiest  tricks  with  her  hands  when  she 
played  the  Sunday  hymns  in  the  evening  on  the  par- 
lor organ.  He  could  hear  her  voice  yet — singing — 
singing  like  some  spring-time  bird  too  full  of  happi- 
ness for  silence.  Then  all  was  blackness,  a  stalk- 
ing darkness,  with  the  light  burning  over  the  farm 
fields  like  the  black  lights  that  must  burn  in  Hell. 
A  servant  woman  was  running  across  the  fields, 
gasping  out  that  his  mother  had  suicided,  and  Sally 
— something  dreadful  had  happened — Sally  had 
gone. 

There  was  no  thought,  no  recollection,  no  se- 
quence after  that.    Farm  and  stock  had  gone  under 


I 


LABOR  AND  THE  BRUTE  CREED  433 

weapons  of  force  ^nd  craft-     B,.r  c  V      .  u      °^" 

3res.raj^^!fcr;rS-J-l- 

t^nt  "r  t'  r""  °^"  '^'■^  followers  wssl.^- 
Pmg  from  h.s  hands— why'  Beca,.<^  h.  ,  ,^' 
go  the  M  /,„,,,  „f  his  cre'ed.  H  h  d  h  stllo""' 
ers  w,thin  the  limits  of  law.     Did  wtd  l^^J; 

c      Law.--     McGee  laughed  huskily. 

warrTor  Chr   .         J'  '"■'*  P""'^'  ^"'^  honesty  as  a 
wamor-Chnst  m.ght  strike-a  Christ-militant,  not 


434 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


I 


the  Christ-maudlin  that  the  dishwater  creeds  of  a 
blood-guilty,  degenerate,  compromising,  creed-mon- 
gering  Christianity  had  set  up  in  the  place  of  that 
true  Christ!  Prince  of  Peace,  He  had  been  called; 
but  did  the  maudlin  do-notnings  forget  that  this 
Prince  of  Peace  was  also  the  Prince  who  brought 
the  Sword — a  Prince  of  Peace;  but  a  Peace  that 
was  Victory,  not  surrender,  not  defeat,  not  cringing 

fearl 

"What  is  it,  Uncle  Sam?  Can  I  help  you?" 
asked  the  boy,  trembling,  awkwardly  unable  to  ex- 
press his  sympathy. 

"Help — me?"  flouted  the  man,  laughing  bitterly. 
"God — no!  No  'iving  soul  on  this  hell-spawned 
earth  can  help  ai.jther!  No  soul  can  give  another 
light  unless  the  eyes  are  opened  I  Help? — Lord — 
no  1  You've  only  got  to  help  yourself  in  this  Hell 
of  a  life,  git  strong— git  strong,  I  say— d'ye  hear? 

git  strong — strong  enough  to  batter  the  gates  o' 

Hell  down ;  or  else  cut  your  throat  at  the  beginning 
of  the  game  I  Come  on  1  The  horses  are  waitin' 1 
It's  a  good  thing  to  be  a  horse,  sonny!  You  don't 
need  to  think,"  and  they  drove  into  the  city  with- 
out another  word. 

Budd  took  the  horses  to  the  livery  man,  explain- 
ing that  he  had  to  go  back  to  the  offices  for  some 
special  meeting  of  the  directors  that  night.  McGee 
went  straight  to  the  Nickel  Plate.  He  did  not  think 
of  it  till  afterwards  that  there  were  no  other  men 
at  the  tables  in  the  little  restaurant,  and  that  the 
waiter  had  muttered  out  something  about  "trouble 


LABOR  AND  THE  BRUTE  CREED    435 

uptown"  ,.„d  "the  regiment  boys  I"     An  evening 

con'r^  T."'  *""^-     ^'^'^'  ''^  gl-ced  o  I     ;f 
contents      Then,  on  the  fourth  page,  where  news 
was  tucked  into  obscurity  beside  thVedtorials    he 
re.d  what  was  a  wind  fanning  the  fire  of  his  smol 
dering  fanaticism. 

There  was  a  half  column-for  this  was  a  sedate 
and  proper  and  circumspect  journal,  indeed  d! 
s.gned  for  fam.ly  reading-retailing  the  ly„  hing 
of  a  negro  m  the  South  for  resisting  arrest  and 
stabbmg  a  constable.  ^  " 

This  was  not  what  angered  McGee.     Below  was 

stick"     of  'T"'~:"^"'  '^'   newspapers   call   "a 
t.ck  -of  a  lawyer's   acquittal  in   the  same  state 

Z/  """/t""  "'  '"  ^'"'"^  "^^ylight  under  the 
shadow  of  the  court  house.    That  was  all  the  news- 

Tjr  T,f\  7"^^  correspondents  had  been  well 
Z  f  ^f^'-''f"f'  ^'^^  charity,  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  sms;  but  McGee  knew-as  all  who  labor 

thaf  '  K^ri  '"  ""'''""^  ^"'^'"e  strange  facts 
-that  self-defense,"  in  this  case,  covered  not  the 
murder  done  .n  broad  daylight,  but  two  other  mur- 
ders, one  of  a  child,  one  of  a  woman-of  so  dark 
character  that  the  relatives,  who  were  of  the  ruling 
and  nchest  class  m  that  Southern  state,  had  pre 

shment  The  acquitted  murderer  had  been  de- 
fended by  every  leading  lawyer  in  his  state,  one  a 
representative  of  his  state  in  Washington,  another  a 
party  boss,  another  a  type  of  that  class  of  domesti- 


436 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


cally  good  men  who  can  create  sympathy  for  a  client. 
The  judge  had  been  bought,  the  jury  coerced. 

The  stalking  daricness  of  Nameless  Wrongs,  red- 
eyed,  maniacal,  bloodthirsty,  brooking  neither  law 
nor  argument;  sweeping  the  sharks  of  court  and 
church  aside  like  a  wakening  giant  scrunching  vam- 
pires; striking  straight  home  for  truth,  and  honor, 
and  purity,  and  honesty — took  fire  in  McGee,  took 
fire  in  the  darkest  of  all  blind  furiss — Mob  Vio- 
lence I  He  had  on'y  to  give  the  word  and  he  could 
win  back  his  followers,  and — then,  his  reckoning 
stopped,  as  all  mob  reckoning  stops! 

Next  to  the  items  about  the  negro  and  the  mur- 
derer was  an  editorial  the  length  of  one's  arm;  for 
that  was  the  length  of  the  sheet,  hysterically  con- 
demning lynching.  "What  was  decency,  civilization, 
Christianity,  coming  to?"  the  editorial  asked  in  a 
climax  of  indignation,  "when  mob  violence  was  be- 
coming the  prevailing  court  of  justice  in  the  fore- 
most nation  of  the  world?"  Not  a  word  was  said 
about  the  triple  murder,  the  bought  judge,  the  cor- 
rupt jury,  the  lawmakers  of  the  nation  conspiring 
to  defeat  justice. 

"Blasted — dishwater!"  muttered  McGee,  sling- 
ing the  newspaper  under  the  table. 

"Good  evening,  McGee!  I  was  out  when  you 
came  to  see  me,  so  I  thought  it  only  fair  that  I 
should  come  to  see  you,"  and  Truesdale  touched 
the  labor  leader  on  the  shoulder. 

McGee  sprang  half  out  of  his  chair,  then  sank 
back. 


LABOR  AND  THE  BRUTE  CREED    „, 
"yy  too  lat.,"  h,  „,„„d  Mv.gcly.    "I  thoMri,, 

ro:^^it:irs;-»t^:srs; 

yo»  go  ™.k„g  „!„„  „„,  „j  k„i,'„,';;l  °°" 

by    00,.  fool  ,„,    The  „i„„,.  ,„  t,jr,M^' 
you  V.  go,  to  „p,„  ri„|  '  *,°."r"" 

»t.,»j,,o.v,go,,o...tto„g,„':°',;';;;- 

.p  m".!"'' Do*;'','"*'  '""■""  "■■■'"'  *'"•  """B 

.f/orLf-^rzyzt-io^t-s'- 

power  on  earth-labor  or  capital-can  Ty  2 

haTats -r'""  r  ?'  '^^''^^^'  ^''' -- 

nave  a  ballot  .n  one  hand,  a  gun  in  the  other     The 
moment  you  waken  the  „,asses  up  to  the  fact  some 
body  ,s  monkeying  with  the  courts •' 

nJerC'ri^"''^  ^^^"'  "^°"«^  -th  lying  wit- 
n«ses,  bnbed  ,unes,  and  bought  Judges,  and  fot'n 

sharplv"^'Vt  ''"''  ''^";"  '"*"^"P^^«^  Truesdale 
^"arply.      The  masses  make  the  laws,  and  you  lead 


438 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


the  masses.     Stop  them  selling  themselves  at  less 
than  the  price  of  a  hog  at  the  polls !" 

McGee  uttered  a  loud,  harsh,  taunting  laugh. 
"By  God— I  do  lead  'em!     But  if  our  represen- 
tatives sell  us  in  the  Congress,  and  the  Senate,  and 
the  courts,  I  propose  to  give  them  a  dose  that  will 
help  them  to  respect  freedom !" 

"Bombs,  and  that  sort  of  fool  nonsense?  de- 
manded Truesdale. 

"What,  then?"  fleered  the  other.  "If  courts  and 
congresses  don't  guarantee  freedom,  are  we  to  bow 
our  necks  to  the  yoke  and  thank  God?" 

How  the  words  happened  to  recur  to  I  ruesdale 
he  could  not  have  told.  He  had  not  heard  them 
since  he  left  college. 

His  memory  wavered  with  the  uncertainty  of  an 
echo.  "I  think  I've  heard  it  said,  or  told  some- 
where, written  or  sung  in  bygone  ages,"  he  said 
absently,  "that  righteousness  exalteth  a  nation. 

McGee  had  only  time  to  bellow  a  contemptuous 
guffaw,  with  muttered  advice  about  "changing  the 
bottle,"  when  a  din,  a  shout,  a  stamping  of  feet, 
arose  from  the  street,  and  Goldsmith,  the  fog- 
dreamer  of  socialism,  rushed  into  the  restaurant  with 
his  eyes  agog  and  his  hat  flying. 

"Sam,  where  have  you  been?  There's  Hell  going 
on  at  the  Great  Consolidated.    The  militia's  ordered 

out!"  ,.    , 

"Militia!"    McGee  leaped  to  his  feet. 
"Hold  on,"  implored  the  German.     "Come  into 

this  inner  room." 


LABOR  AND  THE  BRUTE  CREED  439 

be  bloodshed,  man-let  me  go,  Goldsmith!" 

is  Wo^iV"  "'"""«'-"=  y°"  ^  girl  to  faint  if  there 
"  blood f  Come  m  here  with  me,  I  say!  IVe  got 
a  plan !  You  re  playing  a  losing  game, '.ut  you  can 
score  now-theyVe  laying  for  your  life,  you  fool  " 
and  he  dragged  McGee  bodily  to  an  inner  room 
A  moment  later  the  labor  leader  broke  from  the 

Sri'ch^ir-  ^'''  ''  '''  "^^-   ~'-"^ 
The  law  had  befooled  him;  justice  cast  him  de- 
fenseless to  the  outer  dark;  and  now  the  hammer- 

ng  heartbeats,  che  riotous  flesh,  the  flaming  bra  n, 
the  wronged  soul  of  manhood  were  animated  onlJ 
by  one  ternble,  wild-eyed,  mad-beast  Thing  mini 
acal,  b.oodthirsty,  blind,  brooking  no  h  ndrTnc 
-eepmg  like  a  hurricane  of  fire,^ed-handerd  ! 
struct,ve,  p.tdess,  crazed  with  an  indignation  that 
was  a  murderous  hate-the  Spirit  of  the  Mob! 

The  Great  Blond  Beast  may  be  majestic  when 
he  marches  m   ordered  rank  to  the  misic  of  the 

1a     tJ'  "7i-l  '^'  ''""'  ^-^'"  *he  beast  goes 
mad     The  only  difference  is  that  all  the  wild  dogs 
muzzled  m  the  cellars  of  human  nature  are  un 
leashed  at  once. 


CHAPTER    XXX 


WARD  RKVISES    HIS   CKEED 


Craft  dead  on  the  pavement  with  its  brains 
dashed  out — in  the  person  of  Mr.  Obadiah  Saun- 
ders; Mob  Law  self-destroyed — in  the  person  of 
the  labor  delegate;  the  deceiver  punished  with  his 
own  weapon,  eating  the  fruits  of  his  own  deeds — 
in  the  person  of  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden,  what  more 
should  be  told  in  this  record  than  that  the  virtuous 
people  lived  happy  ever  afterwards? 

The  happy  ending  is  easier  than  a  record  of  ego- 
tism slipping  into  self-pity,  self-pity  to  recklessness, 
recklessness  to  folly,  and  folly — blind  as  the  pro- 
verbial fool — into  a  dark  something  which  we  may 
poetize,  and  sentimentalize,  and  gild,  and  glaze  till 
the  naked  ugliness  is  hidden  like  leper  sores  under 
fine  vestments.  Nevertheless,  the  leper  sores  have 
been  known  to  creep  up  to  the  face,  where  they 
wrote  their  defilement.  Beauty  dallying  on  the  edge 
of  folly,  beauty  flying  to  the  Gretra  Green  of  the 
modern  divo-.e  court,  beauty  playing  the  part  of  the 
tragedy  queen  in  a  fool's  paradise;  and  then — just 
at  the  psychological  moment,  just  when  the  moth's 
wings  were  all  but  in  flame,  just  when  the  acrobatic 
lady  poising  her  slipper-tocs,  however  daintily,  on 
440 


WARD    REVISES    HIS   CREED      4,, 

when  ehe  tragedy  ouerof        .'  ."''''"  ''"^'''  ^"« 
step  too  far  for  th.  fi     T         T^"^'^""^  risks  one 

on  the  sc  ;    hero  c  ,!"ver    "•=  °^  '''  ''"^■■"«-  ^-^^ 

«in.s  down  t^":;rtrar;HTn  !rir^/»"r- 

the  conventional  ending  '^        ^ ''"  " 

in   storiesf  if,':hen     he   m"  ^"«"""''  "  "^  '° 

mine  were  just  liffle  n..  r    •  •  deception   of 

domesticated       "u  C'"       '^'"  '>■•'  hadn't  become 
and  the  finest  hlarth   7  ""  "  """"^  «'°'*'''' 

body  of  itfancestrrs  ''"'  ^"^  """  ^  ^"'^  '"  *"« 

-ndT;'?he;rst":'h"  t"'""'"'  '^  -  --■'^ 

dedarafont  ^Z.:^:S /Ti: ,r'  ^'-'"^ 
«  those  accents  of  oufs         i    '^    h        '=^^"««nce 

F'"i.t.ssion  to  the  madhouse,  and  thp  ,i;,. 
court,  and  the  hpil  ^ii  (      ■„     ,       .  ^  uivorce 

Bui.  unfl!:  i ',  ;;'i't' 'r  r  '"""'=• 

■fer.-.rd.  iik,  ,h/,„„  ""'  "'  •"''  ''•PPy-v.r. 


44» 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


about  and  meet  your  repentance.  What  if  your  late 
love  faces  about  to  meet  with  loathing?  What  if 
the  soul  you  sent  coursing  to  perdition,  to  loss,  to 
ruin,  to  the  cesspool  that  turns  a  soul  into  a  ghoul — 
cannot  be  called  back  by  all  the  prayers  you  send 
after  it,  all  the  tears  you  shed  to  wipe  out  those 
blots  of  the  past? 

However  scientific  and  commonplace,  such 
thoughts  are  not  pleasant.  They  "leave  a  bad  taste 
in  the  mouth."  Let  us  forget,  then,  and  turn  to 
the  conventional  ending!  Let  us  talk  of  mercy  and 
forgiveness!  Let  us  repent  hard  enough:  be  sure 
God  will  forgive  wide  enough !  God's  forgiveness 
would  need  to  be  wider  than  man's  repentance.  We 
may  be  washed  of  stains,  but  what  of  the  soul  you 
sent  to  the  cesspool  instead  of  the  fountain  springs — 
the  soul  which  does  not  wish  to  repent,  which  will 
never  wish  to  repent  because  it  did  not  choose  the 
evil  knowingly — yon  trapped  it  into  that  evil — you 
may  be  washed,  but  with  whose  stripes  is  that  soul 
healed? 

Tom  Ward's  life  was  not  conventional,  though 
you  might  have  thought  that  it  was  from  the  news- 
paper comments  on  his  movements,  or  the  sudden 
bating  of  breath  when  he  entered  a  crowd.  He 
had  gained  his  aim — Success — that  is,  wealth,  power, 
influence  more  pervasive  than  the  rule  of  an  auto- 
crat. As  long  as  the  strikes  lasted  he  had  kept  on 
his  feet,  though  he  was  perfectly  well  aware  that 
the  fast,  heavy  breathing  which  had  first  come  to 
him  as  he  watched  the  mob,  and  increased  to  an 


WARD    REVISES    HIS    CREMJ       443 

agony  as  he  ran  up  the  iron  stair,,  and  brought  . 
sudden  stab  uhcn  the  falling  cornice  struck  him  ,1 
he  clambered  along  the  „rc  escape-boded     ome 
th.ng  wrong.     He  had  gone  directly  to  his  room 

the  trn  n   ?."^'   ^''^  '"  P^"-^"f  bloo.lshed  by 

-et  the  presKlent  pacng  the  library  in  great  pain- 
of  body  or  m,nd,  who  can  tell?lwith  both  fists 
clenched  as  if  to  strike  an  invisible  enemy      The 

warfi'Zn'h""  'iri""'^  "=•'  '^''  "'^'  P'«'J- 
va^   hghtm    himself";   and  who  can   sav  that  fhe 

;oy  was  not  right?  Who  can  say  t  a  The  convt 
t.ons  formed  as  he  w.tched  the  Lob-  J  tTi"  " 
personification  of  the  Great  Blond  Beast  gone  ram 
pant,  mad,  sclf-destructive-were  not  fighfin^hoTe" 
other  lifelong  convictions  on  which  he  had  fr  med 
his  course-that  supreme  selfishness  was  the  seTret 
of  Success,  that  I-orcc  was  the  umpire  of  victory' 
Who  can  say  whether  he  now  felt  his  own  triumph- 
ant Force  assailed  by  subtle  doubts  which  h  c'Sid 
not  fight,  by  an  invisible  power  that  was  not  Fore  ? 
Boy-first,    he  had  ordered,  as  the  doctors  came 

died  off  to  the  private  ward  of  a  hospital,  where 
he  prompt^,  fell  in  love  with  h,s  nurse,     ^r  th 

of  a  na.l  file  and  perfumed  water  dated  from  his 
acquaintance  with  that  nurse.     I  may  also  add  th 

was  she  who  taught  him  to  keep  his  thoughts  i" 
«de  as  clean  as  he  did  his  body  outside.    For  years 


'Jill':    NF  W    DAWN 


11 


afterwards  that  nurse  used  to  receive  bunches  of 
flowers  with  no  signature  bit  "(i.  1'."  which  Budd 
had  learned  was  hospital  slang  for  "Grateful  Pa- 
tient." 

There  was  much  of  this,  as  there  is  of  every  riot, 
that  could  never  be  explained.  Who  had  fired  the 
rifle  shot?  Why  had  Saunders  leaped  like  a  tiger 
at  McGce?  What  plan  had  (joldsmith,  the  anarch- 
ist, suggested  that  sent  the  labor  delegate  dashing 
out  wild-braineu  to  join  the  mob?  Where  had  Mrs. 
Kipp  disappeared?  What  caused  the  explosion? 
How  came  the  watchman  to  be  off  duty  that  night? 

A  crack-brained  youth  found  in  the  mob  with  an 
empty  rifle  would  have  been  sent  to  the  penitentiary 
if  Ward  had  not  intervened.  Ward  had  acquired 
the  habit  of  interfering  with  justice.  He  had  his 
own  reasons  for  wishing  to  allay  bitterness,  and  he 
paid  the  fees  of  the  great  nerve  specialists  who 
gave  their  opinion  that  the  youth  was  insane. 
Neither  McGee  nor  Saunders  lived  after  they  struck 
the  pavement,  and  their  secrets  died  with  theni. 
Two  or  three  of  the  rioters  were  sent  to  jail, 
and  detectives  said  that  they  had  found  traces  of 
explosives  under  the  elevator  flume,  but  Ward  de- 
clared that  a  gasoline  tank  had  been  stored  there. 
They  could  go  on  with  their  investigating  if  they 
wished,  he  said,  but  he  did  not  back  up  his  per- 
mission with  a  check,  and  Justice  again  obeyed  the 
beck  of  the  financier's  finger.  If  the  Wards  and 
the  McGees,  the  shark  lawyers  making  loopholes 
for  themselves  to  escape  and  the  shark  legislators 


WARD   REVISES   HIS   CREED 


making  berths 


445 


Who  believe  that 'onl".""""'  ?"''  """  ""'""^ntalist, 
i."ivt  tnat  one  crimina   saved  from  .1,-.    a 

"(  h>>  "wn  deed,  i,  of  more  worth  than  n  1  '"'"? 
■nnoeents  protected-have  charJ         .  ^°"""'' 

other  hundred  years  oneJon  r  ►.'"'""  ^'"'  ""■ 
thing  it  will  be.  Ward  ;:  7  j-h't  rnnnner  of 
When  he  found  that  Justice  i'  t"''  '^"  ''""'■ 
farce,  he  ignored  it  ""''  '"^"' J '"^■» 

;;c    «ood^nature7:j;i:;  ;r^.r-^^-  "- 

!Swten:r"'"^^---^?-^ 

"Stop-;  and  I    bor  ;:f  f"  *'''?"  '"  =*  '^"P"  «"" 

•^'v>4»  wii,th?nl;:t,;  xr^^'r-^pf  -.^y 

"cnt  back  to  work.     VVarlr,.  It?'      k      '*"''"' 
"o  one  but  the  doctor   guLe^'^Vr"''''^^  ""^ 

-PS.     rtes^T.    thj,  te'Sr"  ""V"  ""'^^ 

^- Hard,  have  been-L^"o^«^--: 

But  now  the   conflict  was  over    -in,1   W      i 

mained  at  home  to  rest  for  tLTn  "'^   "■'■ 

l'«n  ordered      An  TI  ''°>"''^'"  '"^'^  ^ad 

orucrcd.     And  the  rest  was  no  re<!t      H„   r  4 


too  much  time  with  noth 


iturc  or  art,  nn  i  he  had 


ng  to  do  !)ut  th 


fnrn     U-      \  """'ing  to  do  I)u( 

fore,   h.s   thoughts   had   always   reach 


Be 


ed   forward. 


446 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


I '.   I'll 
,1  •    f' 


Now,  they  somehow  turned  back.  He  was  not  con- 
scious that  life  was  revising  his  creed.  Indeed,  he 
was  barely  conscious  that  he  had  ever  had  a  creed: 
but  he  knew  that  his  life  had  been  shaken  from  its 
foundations.  He  had  not  known  fear,  even  when 
the  bullet  went  singing  past  him  with  a  curious, 
whistling  hum;  but  when  he  had  clambered  down 
the  fire  escape  with  the;  mob  that  but  a  moment  be- 
fore would  have  lynched  him,  now  howling  frantic 
applause,  and  arms  came  reaching  out  to  him  with 
a  glistening  of  tears  on  the  multitude  of  faces  gazing 
from  the  dark,  something  hard  as  adamant  in  the 
man  suddenly  melted.  He  felt  very  much  like  a 
good  man  overtaken  in  a  flagrant  wrong,  or  a  sinner 
caught  doing  some  startling  goodness. 

One  day  when  Truesdale  cal'-i!  he  found  Ward 
lying  back  in  a  study  chair.  Mrs.  Ward  had  come 
in  from  a  motor  run  and  was  absently  drawing  off 
her  long  gloves. 

"Where  are  your  rings,  Louie?"  Ward  was  ask- 
ing, noting  both  hands  ringless. 

"The  wedding  ring?"  Truesdale  thought  the 
smile  a  trifle  too  languid.  "Oh,  out  of  fashion, 
Tom!  They  spoil  one's  gloves!"  And,  when  she 
turned,  Truesdale  thought  her  indifference  a  trifle 
too  indifferent. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Truesdale,  you  can  tell  us  about 
Madeline?"  she  said. 

He  did  not  respond  to  her  pause. 

"What  is  the  latest  news  of  her?"  shi-      ked. 


WARD    DEVISES    HIS    CREED       „, 

Truesdale     nn    l-^  ''"'"'"  S"="'Jed? 

watch's;^;!;' Jan  'UTLTsltr'    n"    ''" 
find  out  another     A  I^H^  l  "^   ''""8  *° 

"C!  ™der  disdain  ''  ""  ">">«»"- 

without  exacting  it.     Somehow,  tL  t  ac  s    h  ,    ! 

be  on  the  top-most  shelf  of  the  hbrarv      r       I 
t.me  Truesdale  had  captured  the  look  2;  U    I  '^' 

aid  both  her  gloves  an'd  her  ht  re  c    ef   -^tTe' 
hunted  them  in  separate  corners  he  had  n 
wonder  whether  such  women  wo:id  ul  imatel/S 
a  man  ,nto  a  poodle  dog  or  a  footstool  '       " 

I-  was  going  to  read  with  Mr   Warri  "  .h        -j 
reaching  to  the  .antel  for  a  letter  ^'hich'^ 


448 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


dale   handed   to    her,    "but    now    that    you    have 


"Pray,  don't  let  me  interfere  1"  Truesdale  lifted 
his  hat  to  leave. 

"Read  wilh  me,  Louie?"  Ward  laughed  aloud. 
"I'm  hanged  if  we've  read  together  since  we  signed 
the  marriage  certificate,  but  sit  down,  both  of  you ! 
I  want  your  advice !  Louie,  there  are  ten  chairs  in 
this  room.  Why  the  devil  do  you  want  the  one 
that  must  upset  all  my  papers?  Here,  True,  here 
are  chairs  for  you  both." 

Her  by-play,  her  scorn,  her  grace,  her  languor 
were  all  as  completely  lost  on  the  big  man  as  the 
coquetting  of  a  butterfly  before  a  lion.  They  were 
not  lost  on  the  younger  man.  What  would  have 
piqued  interest  and  tickled  vanity  in  some  men 
roused  a  sudden  and  unreasonable  loathing  in  him. 
If  she  had  for  one  instant  forgotten  herself,  if  she 
had  for  one  instant  forgotten  to  play  the  actress, 
he  would  have  been  offering  her  homage  uncon- 
sciously; but  a  man  of  the  world  meets  too  man-. 
Mrs.  Wards  to  care  for  the  type  off  play-board'^ 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Truesdale,  for  run- 
ning me  out  of  that  hobble  with  your  machine,  th-- 
night  of  the  riot,"  Ward  was  saying.  "1  hear  th. 
strikers  were  pretty  close  hauled  between  the  devi' 
and  the  deep  sea.  I  say,  Truesdale,  there  is  noth 
ing  to  gain  keeping  up  ill  feeling,  now  that  the  stril"' 
is  over.  Your  men  are  collecting  a  relief  fund  for 
our  miners — they  wouldn't  take  a  gift  from  me.  f)" 
you  think  you  could  smuggle  in  an  anonymous  liol 


Hiaiiirw^..*  *». 


WARD   REVISES   HIS    CREED      ,,, 
from  me  in  that  relief  lisf?    v„ 
"Wigedl     I'llsendh    chick?"         '^";f-     ^^"'^'^ 
-  your  own  name-till  Jru'-^"  ''°"-     ""'^^^  ''  ""t 

and  tapped  her  gloves  !:;:IX     ^^''«  - -id. 

^c-f  tit7t£^i,2T/rhet  ri '°  -'  ^■•- 

that  Miss-vvhat  do  you  c^,   ^' ' ,  ^  ""'^^"'^'nd 
girl,  all  forehead   soul    th..  J   ^ouie  ?-artist 

fished  the  brat  ou    of  the  ,      '°'''  "^  '^'"g'  ^'^^  who 
«r  r  "'  ""^  slums,  vou  knn«,?" 

I  fancy  you  must  refer  to  a  vn 

I  have  heird  so  "  she  s^H         i- 
^nd    a.nln   that    felinr'V""''"^- 

-pen    acknow,,,;,"       "?'  ^'''P  ^^^-kins,  that  that 
'-^'ht  h<.  n  l,a,>  to  .on/      ""'■''    ^'"-    f'"   ''"^band 

--n,y,itti^hapt^a;';:';r;^i,f't;""/^'^^" 

'~">od  material   spoil..|,   fruesdX     ,,  r'  '  ^'"' 

'■'  some  boys'  school  «h,.,-      r       ■     ^'  '""'''"K  f-i"! 

r^''-d-re,:i:'rt::v7:r-!^'-' 

'^■"■n  to  kick  it  nut  in  th,,  r       u  '"'^  '"'"  t" 


^frs 


450 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


Louie  covdd  hunt  up  some  boys'  school  that  would 

suit?" 

A  low  exclamation  had  broken  from  his  wife. 
For  the  once.  Truesdale  saw  her  forget  hersell' 
with  a  sudden  rush  of  tears  on  the  verge  of  laugh- 
ter or  sobbing. 

"You  are  not  going  to "  she  had  begun,  when 

her  husband  took  the  words  from  her  lips. 

"No,  of  course,  not  in  my  name!  I  wanted 
Truesdale  to  hand  the  money  over  to  Miss  Connor 
so  tiiat  she  could  do  it!" 

Afterwards,  out  in  the  parkway,  Truesdale  stood 
still,  thinking— thinking  what  these  offers  meant  in 
the  change  of  Ward's  attitude  toward  life,  think 
ing  what  those  sudden  tears  meant  in  Mrs.  War>l 
when  the  boy's  name  was  mentioned,  wonderini; 
what  Madeline  liked  in  this  woman.  What  True- 
dale  forgot  was  that  Madeline  herself  was  n 
woman,  not  a  man,  seeing  as  a  woman,  not  as  ;i 
man.  The  grating  of  a  horse's  hoofs  over  tl? 
driveway  roused  him  from  the  reverie  to  see  Mr. 
Dorval  Hebden  riding  up  to  the  Ward  mansion. 

Inside,  Ward  had  gone  to  a  back  piazza  over- 
looking the  slope  of  the  hill  to  a  rear  arm  of  the 
sea.  His  camp  chair  was  directly  between  the  door 
and  the  window  of  the  back  drawing  room,  hidden 
from  each  opening.  He  must  have  fallen  asleep, 
for  a  warm  wind  of  late  Indian  summer  sprang  ur 
blowing  the  portiere  across  the  doorway,  shakini; 
out  a  perfume  of  lilac  sachet,  so  that  the  dreaming; 
man  saw  himself  once  more  a  boy  back  at  the  little 


'^smmBgg'M-w 


WARD    REVISES   HIS    CREED      ,„ 
unpainted    cottage    with    th. 

hedges,  and  the  roslrerf  l  '""'''-""'^^'"g  lilac 
«ar  pricking  throrj,  X  r'''  '"'^  '^'  '^<="'"S 
--'  ItsfeJdfohe  "■  -'^';  H°-  still  if 
hear  the  robins  cJL^\hT'  ''""■  "«=  ""'^ 
hough,  of  the  pines  Far  "'T  """"^  *°P-™"»t 
the  city  were  fing,^„  faintT^'w  '  '^"''^  ''^"^  "^ 
"ttle  girls  were  pSg^    'j^    "''  ^-.'>-  -d  the 

"^   --  lying  on   the'l  wn    .t  his""'.'  T"^'"*" 
watching  with  a  sort  of  u      /  '"''ther's   feet, 

thin,  white  hands"artd';S  7"  "•  "^""  '^^  *>- 
the  Bible  where  she  read  -u'"""'''^^  P^^^-ges  in 
came  din,„,er,  he  would  take  the^Blhr  "'',  ^''^'  >"=- 
yo"ng  eyes,  read  over  the  m  .    ""'''  ^''h  his 

fhey  were  all  promi  eT^" '^' ''^^  "'"''^d. 
g"ce,  of  con,fort  far  suffer'"'/^  '''''  ^"^ 
The  old  choke  cal  to  hlr"^'  u  ■""'  ''"  God. 
^hen  he  read  thoTe  p^o  '  "\  ^^  ''''^^y^  "-"e 

the  lines  of  suffering  o'nth  Val  "'"^'  "^  ^°  '" 

the  drean,  had  shiffed  He  '  T''"'  ^^^^-  ^l^^"- 
her  face  grown  cold  an  1  I '"'  ''""""^  '"^'-  ^^'^e- 
-■th  shut  eyes;  and  ;  'iil,'  ""  P"^"'^  ^°'-  hi- 

^-  .'-e"  weighted  is  tthir,°V'°»'^"-- 
runnmg  through  the  wo,„)7  "^-      "«  ^as 

the  city  like  a^glare  o7b,o  .'""'  ''""^  '''  ''^^^  "^ 
^^nd  the  woods  had  turn  rl?""^  '^'^  "'«ht  skv: 
^^«s,   mad,   wild-beast  7n  L^'  '  "'"'^''^"de  of 

Hell-dance  in  the    ;S^„";:'-'^-"   dancing  a 


452 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


^- 


McGee  with  his  wild,  maniac  eyes,  raving  of 
wrongs;  women  and  children,  multitudes  of  women 
and  children,  poor,  hungry,  cold,  hurling  reproaches 
at  him,  Tom  Ward,  running  through  the  wood  to 
the  red  light  of  the  great  city  that  sent  up  its  in- 
cense to  the  God  of  Traffic.  Fear?  Did  they  think 
he  was  afraid,  those  fool  faces  with  their  deathless 
reproach?  ^  le  had  no  more  pity  nor  fear  of  them 
than  he  had  had  of  the  dog;  but  the  leaden  weight 
had  come  back  on  his  chesc  again  with  a  horrible 
consciousness  that  bedlam,  and  pandemonium,  and 
Hell  had  broken  loose  in  the  world;  and  that  he 
could  never  satisfy  his  mother's  simple  ideas  of  right 
and  wrong  that  what  he  had  done  was  well.  He 
could  hear  her  reading  to  him  above  all  the  uproar, 
reading  from  her  Bible  with  her  simple,  old-fash- 
ioned faith  of  the  Beasts  that  would  war  for  the 
souls  of  men,  Beasts  of  Lust,  of  Gluttony,  of  Con- 
quest, of  Error.  Then  he  was  arguing  with  r.er 
so  violently  that  the  vehemence  of  his  words  wak- 
ened him  with  a  start,  standing  erect,  panting  for 
breath,  gazing  out  to  sea,  his  heart  beating  a  queer 
force  pump  pulse,  that  sent  his  soul  tense. 

"  'Shall'  is  a  very  strong  word !  I  don't  like  the 
sound  of  it  from  a  woman's  lips,  l-ouie!" 

Who  was  talking  to  his  wife,  calling  her  by  her 
Christian  name  with  that  easy,  nonchalant  faniibar- 
ity?    Ward  gripped  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"You  shall  not  ....  go  away  just  ....  now! 
You  may  as  well  understand  that!     If  you  could  go 


WARD    REVISKS    HJS    CREED      4,3 

what  you  hTve     owed  IThI  '''"l  '^"   ^°   ^^ 
life '^^^  '''^  °"e  hope  of  your 

"Some   of   Louie's   damned   hysterics"   fJ,       l 

why  not  call  it  off  and  'l''     y'°"  ""'','  ^'''  ""'' 
am  changed'    If  I   ",  T        .^""/'""P'^'n  that  I 

"Yes  \  '"^"^'  ^^''y  "°t  quit?" 

'"  .  why  not,  indeed?" 

haty^^^Tt^allbr/^r^'r'  '''''  "''"  °^  --"'  <>( 

^e>t  h-,.e  a  mt:t;;i  gTo^';TuM„T1•  ^r' 

powerless.    A  sudden  tnm  '  ''"P'   ''"f 

He  seemed  to  hetf  rhX,';"':"'  '"  T"^^'' 
story  of  the  Gre,f  r  r  j  ^  '  "P  '"  ^^^  tenth 
tickiL  in  r  Consolidated,  ticking  . 

-uiitrsTo:Si;t^^^^^ 

Poi^tatthis,too,asth;T;uit":fr^frcrd'"^''" 

childhood.     The  dv^n..  ?   '^"■'""^   ^^'^  t° 

across  the  darkening  ""  ''"'.'°"«  ^''='^^='  °^  '"'•■J 
and  the  bats  btan  dar  '"  ''  **=  1°°^  °^  ^''^  '^i"' 
fees.  He  had  almn  r  ^  'T"^  ''''  '"^  ^''"'""t 
voices  hSbe'  to  trr'^"'  "T"''  ^''«  '^e 
'vhen  a  low    one  of  'I"-'"''  "^  '  "'ghtmare, 

portiere  '■'^Postulafon  came  from  the 


■WFrT  »*1, 


T'/^^^ 


454 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


*■ 


"I  should  think  your  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things 
would  suggest  the  propriety  of  my  going  away, 
when  your  husband  is  so  ill?" 

Mr.  Uorval  Hebden  was  always  so  sympathetic, 
so  very  Cf  ^derate,  so  very  comprehending  with- 
out beinf;  '  .Id— was  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden. 

"Fitnc  >  of  things?"  A  woman's  voice  laughed. 
"Does  the  man  who  swore  that  love  transcended 
all  conventions  now  talk  to  me  of  fitness  of  things? 
Fitness  of  things?"  she  laughed  in  a  hard,  cold, 
grating,  mirthless  tone.  "Since  when  did  you  be- 
come so  solicitous  of  my  husband's  honor?" 

There  was  a  long,  terrible  silence  with  no  sound 
but  the  quivering  of  the  dead  leaves  blowing  across 
the  lawn.  Ward  had  sunk  back  to  his  chair,  broken, 
aged,  bowed,  trembling. 

Then,  in  the  man's  voice,  agitated  and  scornful: 
"You  can  hardly  reproach   me  on  that  score, 
Louie  1" 

"No,"  she  retorted.     "We  are  even  therj,  and 

even  ....  we  shall  stand  ....  to  the 

end!  Do  not  mistake!  .  .  .  Even  we  shall  stand 
to  the  end,  be  the  consequences  what  they  may! 
Oh  ....  I  think  thieves  have  more  honor!  1 
have  heard  of  thieves  who  did  not  become  suddenly 
repentant  just  when  the  risk  necame  greatest!  I 
have  heard  of  thieves  who  did  not  take  credit  to 
themselves  for  repentance  at  such  a  time.  Yes, 
she  added  with  compressed  intensity  of  anger,  "and 
I  have  heard  of  thiev.  ;  who  had  a  certain  and  final 
way  of  dealing  with  a  traitor." 


WARD   REVISES   HIS   CREED      45, 

J'^flV"     '^^'  '"'*"'»  ''"P'-'i'nt  footstep,   re 
ounded  from  the  hardwood  floor  as  if  he' Jr" 
striding  up  and  down.     "If  you  like  fn  „„u 
parens  with  criminal,,  ,ou  ^,"^1^.''^  '°'- 

But,  as  for  you,"  she  retorted  auicklv  <Vh- 

pan-son  would  be  out  of  place,  ^.ouldif'n^./'Vrj 

are  no  memories,  are  fh^ro    .u"  1        '■"^" 

-ake  even  a  ciim'ina;  blush?"       "  ""'  '"^^  '"'«'** 

The  footsteps  ground  sharply  on  the  floor. 

was  an^werin?-'  T,'  ^"'  ^""^  "^^'■"«'"  '^e  man 
was  answermg  and  I  care  less  for  your  threats' 
A  final  way  of  dealing  with  a  traitor-eh  ?  You 
dioo        dd  ways  of  recommending  happine  s  tl  a 

WarH-«  -r.  °'^^  '"°'^''  '"»"  ^hen  you  were 
Wards  wife  how  do  I  know  that  you  might  nol 

wffe?  yT''  =""'  '°'"  ^"°^''"  -''-  y°"  were  Ty 
You  J  r  '°T"^  ""  >"'"'•  ''"'band's  death  I 
Vou  are  makmg  plans  dependent  on  his  death  " 
The  man  laughed  brutally.  "How  do  I  know  hat 
you  might  not  similarly  count  on  my  deathV  jf 
you  were  not  so  blind,  if  you  were  not  so  infatu 

>^l°"7''"''^  '"  '^''  "^y  h=>"gin8  about  here 
with  Ward  at  death's  door  is  the  fast  thing  in  the 

chl  to"  hiT ''°"'  ^.'"  '"'•  '^"P^-  B---  you 

chose  to  hide  your  real  nature  under  a  mask    and 

because  you  chose  to  lay  aside  that  mask  w  th  me 

am  I   o  blame  for  what  I  found  beneath  the  mask"" 

And  so,     she  interrupted,  "a  man  may  hang  his 

aseness  like  a  m  llstone  round  a  woman's'neck,V„d 

all  It  a  caress,  till  she  sinks;  then,  if  she  clings  to 

the  one  hand  .hat  should  hold  her  up,  blame' A^r 


4S6 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


I 


for  dragging  him  down !  Great  God — that  I  could 
have  been  such  a  fool  I  And,  now,  you  would  go  to 
Europe  because  death  might  leave  the  way  open  for 
what  you  vowed  and  swore  by  the  holiest  of  human 
ties  was  the  one  aim  of  your  life?  You  think  to 
make  lovers'  oaths  for  a  pastime,  then  to  run  away 
when  all  obstacles  to  the  fulfilment  of  those  oaths 
are  removed?  You  think  to  have  your  way,  then 
let  others  carry  the  consequences?  You  hold  my 
reputation  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand  because  I  was 
fool  enough  to  believe  a  man  could  be  a  woman's 
friend  in  time  of  need?  You  could  tell  the  world 
all?  You  could  even  accuse  me  to  him?  If  I  ob- 
ject to  a  friend  turning  traitor  and  thief,  you  will 
throw  my  reputation  into  the  gutter?  Reputation? 
Have  I  cared  for  reputation  since  I  was  fool  enough 
to  take  you  into  my  life?  Should  I  be  talking  to 
you  now  if  I  cared  for  what  reputation  means? 
Wolves — they  say — single  out  the  wounded  for  their 
victim.  You  knew  that  I  was  unhappy.  Through 
that  unhapplness  you  crept  into  my  life!  Yes,  I 
know,"  she  hurried  on,  as  if  to  stop  his  speech,  "I 
know  we  are  both  to  blame,  as  you  have  said.  I 
do  not  shirk  my  share  of  blame,  nor  do  I  shirk  the 

consequences;  twr shall you!    From 

a  friend  creeping  through  my  unhappiness,  through 
that  unhappiness  passing  all  barriers  of  reserve,  you 
posed  as  the  ardent  lover  begging  me  to  free  my- 
self that  I  might  marry  you;  and  now  that  I  am 
about  to  be  free  you  will  skulk  off  to  Europe  ?    Go !" 


WAkI)    REVISES    Ills    CREED      ,„ 

C     J  I       •         .     •     •    8"    •    •    ■    .    too  1 

Suddenly  the  light  of  the  sunset  smot.  th         u 
t'«e  open  door  with  the  colossal  ,hV/         /""«'' 

Tl  '    *   '    '  **'*    •    •    •       So   low  •*" 

staggering,  hr  ^  i  /  twY   ,  k'  ''''''''  ^'^  ''-''• 

."iow.  The  dead  LtrSr^c^l'ret"'' 
in  a  ragged  flock       \  k-    i     •     •    ^""^^  '"e  lawn 

for  a  nlenf:' the'rai  C:?  thTo'""'  '"'''' 
a  lonely  autumn  cry,  and  as  go  e  'Vhe";  "'T' 
dd  not  sneak       H.     i      ,       ^""^-     "le  president 

Jhe  president  sank  to  a  sofa 
Come  here!"  he  said 


MICROCOfr   (ESOIUTION   TIST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No,  2| 


1.0  !fe  m 

1.1  I  "^  iilliM 


^     TIPPLED  \hMGE     In 


I65J   EosI   MQin   SI'fet 


458 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


she  would  act  when  this  crisis  came,  she  could  not 
ignore  his  command. 

He  was  leaning  forward  with  his  brow  on  his 
1.  ft  palm,  his  elbow  on  his  knee.  With  his  right 
hand  he  drew  her  to  him.  She  sank  to  the  floor 
at  his  knees.  This  was  not  the  part  she  had  re- 
hearsed to  herself.  She  had  expected  outcry,  anger, 
reproaches.  She  had  told  herself  vhat  she  would 
answer,  how  she  would  act.  His  rage  would  beat 
itself  out  against  her  disdain.  She  would  meet  his 
accusations  with  words  from  his  own  lips,  making 
Self  the  supreme  end  of  life.  But  he  uttered  no 
accusations.  Not  a  reproach  passed  his  lips.  He 
shook  like  one  sobbing,  but  there  was  no  sob. 

"Tell  me,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "tell  me, 
Louie,  were  you  what  I  thought  you,  when  I  mar- 
ried you;  or  were  you  always  ....  this?" 

And,  with  the  cruelty  of  the  infatuated  woman, 
she  answered  simply: 

"I  was  what  you  thought  me  when  you  married 
me,  and  I  am  what  you  think  me  now." 

She  felt  the  tremor  of  his  hand  in  a  sudden,  tense 
grip,  and  braced  herself  for  the  contest. 

"And  I  .  .  .  .  have  made  ....  you  what  you 
are?"  he  asked. 

And  with  the  shamelessness  that  mistakes  itself 
for  courage  she  answered  simply: 

"You  have  made  me  what  I  ami" 

If  he  had  broken  out  in  a  torrent  of  abuse.  If  he 
had  called  her  names  that  are  the  last  insult  to 
womanhood,  if  he  had  caught  her  by  the  throat  to 


WARD    REVISES    HIS    CREED      459 

strangle  her,  if  he  had  struck  her  and  cast  her  from 

ofZ  J  '°':\^  ^'^'  '""Shed;  but  he  did  none 
of  these  thmgs.  He  uttered  no  word,  but  he  raised 
both  hands    gazed  questioningly  and  long  into       r 

rhe?lot,dr^°""^^--^^-'^i^H;:j 

c°:;^^„  .;.•:----:-„  didn't 

realize?"  Tu       l     ■      ,  '^°"'"  VO" 

realize .  .  .  Then  he  broke  down  utterly  sob 
bing  like  a  child  on  her  shoulder  ^' 

_     Mrs   Ward  had  not  rehearsed  a  part  for  this     It 
-  so  with  all  of  us.     Rehearse  weaver  so  wsel 
the  vitalities  take  us  unawares  ^' 

she'^^LZtf  "^  so,  without  speaking,  he,  broken, 
pride  The  '  T-'^'k?  '^'  "''^''"S  °^  her  own 
fh:'odor'^o^^r.^^^ ''■^^^  ■"  ^''^ -'"'^-''^'''"^  out 

"Why,  Tom?"  she  whispered 
He  shook  himself  like  a  maimed  lion  trying  to 
rouse  dead  strength.  ^^ 

"Then  you  never  cared  ....  for  me  I 

mean?"  he  asked.  •  ror  me I 

"No,"  but  her  answer  was  scarcely  a  whisper,  and 
she  was  weeping.  f  •> -"u 

"^"'""o'ate yet.  .  ..  Louie?" 

th  "ihe'fZld^  '''  ''''''''  "  """  ''^  -^'^^ 
"You  want  your  freedom'" 


"Yes,"  she  said. 
"Then  you  shall  hav 


■e  it,"  he  declared,  "you  shall 


460 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


J 


|i| 


have  your  freedom  I     I  have  blighted  life  enough! 

You  shall  have  your  freedom;  but  don't 

throw  it  away  on  that  base  scoundrel!  Take  your 
freedom;  but  I  will  never  see  your  name  dragged 
in  the  gutter  of  the  divorce  court!  You  shall  sue 
me — sue  me  for  anything  you  like !  I'll  see  the  law- 
yers about  it!  We'll  arrange  it  at  once!  It  doesn't 
matter  with  a  man,  but  with  a  woman  it's  different! 

Don't  you  see  she  can't  go  into  the  gutter 

without  getting  everything that  makes  her 

worth  while  draggled  so  it's  dead  weight  pulling 
her  down?  Don't  you  see  the  very  fearlessness  of 
her  ....  her  ...  .  her  love  will  come  through  that 
gutter  brazen  as  brass?    You  can't  stand  it!    You'll 

sue  me!" 

She  had  :  ing  up,  drawing  back,  dazed  as  he 
spoke.  Not  ctius  had  she  dreamed.  He,  not  she. 
had  been  in  the  wrong  at  the  first,  and  that  wrong 
of  his  she  had  used  as  a  justification  for  all  that  she 
did,  never  dreaming  that  the  mote  in  his  eye  might 
become  the  beam  in  her  own. 

"You  mean,"  she  began;  but  the  floodgates  of 
her  womanhood  broke  bounds  and  she  fled  hysteri- 
cally, pursued  by  a  horror  of  herself,  by  a  loss  of 
trust  in  what  she  might  do.  Her  maid  had  gone 
out,  and  the  apartments  upstairs  were  deserted.  She 
locked  the  door.  Hardly  knowing  what  she  did, 
she  began  feverishly  drawing  out  all  the  rare  jewels, 
the  bric-a-brac,  the  costly  gifts  of  her  husband. 
Then  she  hurriedly  threw  a  few  dresses  into  a  small 
trunk,  and  changed  her  gown  for  a  traveling  suit. 


WARD  KE^;sKs  Ills  cr,.:j:i)     ,6, 

Locking  the  jewels  in  the  escritoire  she  st.ddenly  re- 
membered  that  some  letters-letters  from  him  who 
was   not  her   husband-should   be    destroyed"  Zl 

m,dn,ght  when  she  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  on 
the  door,  and  Ward's  valet  handed  in  an  envelop 
Inside,  written  m  a  shaky  hand,  were  these  words: 

Dear  Louie :    Let  us  not  do  anvthing  rash       jnn't 

Tom. 

At  first  she  had  thought  the  note  was  from  some 
one  else,  and  her  trepidation  increased. 
_  Any  answer,  ma'm?"  asked  the  valet. 

that  Mr^Wf  1  :T   .'•' ^?  '"  ''  ^>"  ^'^'ht,  and  see 

hat  Mr.  Ward  takes  h,s  sleeping  powders  and  that 

the  doctors  come  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  " 

1  akmg  a  pencd,  she  wrote  at  the  foot  of  the  note : 

It  is  too  late  The  jewels  are  in  the  secret  drawer 
)f  the  desk.  Please  take  them  back.  Please  do  not 
try  to  trace  me;  and  deliver  the  trunk  when  it  Ts  sent 

This  she  placed  in  an  envelope  addressed  to  her 
husband  above  the  writing  desk.  Then,  putting  on 
a  heavy  cloak,  she  passed  silently  down  the  side 
stairs,  and  out.  The  melodrama  of  her  f.,lly  of 
her  self-pity,   of  her  play-acting,   had  become  too 


Ji  i 


462 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


real  for  endurance.  Unconsciously,  like  a  pursued 
thing,  she  was  trying  to  run  away  from  the  burden 
of  consequences  she  had  bound  for  her  own  back- 
in  a  word,  to  run  away  from  herself. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 


BUT   IT   IS   TOO   LATE 

Flight  is  not  graceful.  Neither  is  haste,  par- 
^cularly  when  a  man  swears  and  loses  his  temper. 
1  he  debonair  Hebden  seemed  to  be  losing  his  gav 
nonchalance,  for  his  manner  of  bolting  from  the 
back  p.azza  of  the  Ward  mansion  was  not  in  a 
style  comporting  with  the  character  of  a  Don  juan- 
and  now  he  was  pounding  over  the  gravel  of  the 
parkway  at  a  cra/.y  gallop,  clinching  his  teeth  in  ,n 
ugly  fashion  each  time  the  horse  reared  and  plunged 
to  the  stab  of  the  spurs. 

Of  couibc,  one  must  not  blame  Hebden      That 
■  s— you  must  not  if  you  would  sympathize  with  his 
way  of  looking  at  things.     H-;  felt  himself  the  vic- 
tim of  hostile  circumstances— the  victim  of  having 
a  gcn'.rous,  sympathetic,  impulsive  nature,  come  in 
contact  with  a  "scheming  fool  of  a  woman."     He 
telt  himself  sorely  used,  somehow  put  on  the  wrong 
side  of  things  so  that  his  conduct  showed  up  in  a 
bad  light.    Was  it  his  fault  that  women  made  fools 
01    themselves  over  him?     Was   it  his   fault  that 
^vomen  persisted  in  mistaking  his  little  kindnesses 
lor  love  making?     Was  it  his  fault  that  she  had 
463 


464 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


!i   S 


used  his  friendship  to  widen  the  estrangement  be- 
tween herself  and  her  husband? 

Of  course,  he  had  made  vows.  What  man  had 
not,  under  the  impulse  of  an  unscrupulous  woman's 
fascinations?  She  had  trapped  him  into  saying  all 
thc^se  "fool  things."  He  remembered  shifted 
glances  when  they  had  been  alone  together,  for  no 
other  purpose  than  "to  trick  him  into  making  a  fool 
of  himself."  Wasn't  it  to  his  credit  that  he  had 
wanted  to  drop  the  thing  when  Ward  was  ill?  It 
had  been  on  her  account  in  the  first  place  that  he 
had  wanted  to  leave  and  avert  gossip.  Manifestly, 
Mr.  Dorval  Hcbden  was  a  badly  used,  innocent 
man.  He  was  not  at  all  after  the  pattern  of  the 
ordinary  villain.  He  did  not  lick  his  lips  with  gusto 
over  his  acts.  He  patted  himself  on  the  back  for 
not  being  worse. 

To  be  sure,  there  were  some  unpleasant  mem- 
ories, particularly  of  what  Ward  had  overheard. 
What  Ward  had  overheard  would  be  harder  for 
Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  to  forget  than  some  other 
things  that  had  slipped  into  oblivion,  ^ou  see, 
Mr.  Dorval  Hebden's  conscience  was  chiefly  ex- 
ternal— what  others  thought  and  knew;  but,  then, 
he  had  been  so  innocent  of  wrong  intentions  in  the 
beginning  and  so  penitent  of  bad  results  in  the  end 
that  the  good  intentions  at  the  beginning  and  the 
repentance  at  the  end  surely  atoned  for  any  little 
mistakes  in  his  experiments  of  how  to  get  the  great- 
est amount  of  happiness  out  of  life.  For  men  and 
women    like    Hebden    the    case    might    almost   be 


BUT    IT    IS    TOO    LATi:  465 

worked  out  mathematically.  Given  go.ul  intentions 
at  one  end,  good  repentance  at  the  other  end,  you 
get  the  subtracteil  remainder  of  a  good  fellow  who 
has  been  a  little  indiscreet,  or  the  angel  ..f  the  self- 
sorry  sort,  who  may  also  have  been  inaiscreet. 

But  Ilebden  did  not  reason  in  this  cold  wav 
He  rode  like  a  madman  with  his  thoughts  a  whirl- 
wmd  of  rage,  and  niortificaiion,  and  revenge.  How 
dare  S/,e  bring  this  humiliation  on  //,>„.^  How  dare 
She  expose  ///„,  to  possible  vengeance?  And  he 
who  but  a  few  months  before  had  exhausted  lovers' 
vows,  who  had  sworn  by  the  holiest  of  names  that, 
If  she  would  but  free  herself,  eternity  would  be  too 
short  to  contain  their  happiness— now  hated  her  for 
listening  to  those  vows,  now  called  down  on  her 
all  the  curses,  all  the  insults,  all  the  reproaches  all 
the  accusations,  that  could  be  hurled  against  wom- 
anhood. Then  through  the  tumult  of  his  passion 
flashed  a  thought  born  of  his  own  suspicion— had 
she,  the  jealous  Jezebel,"  turned  Madeline  against 
him,  befooled  him  with  her  silence  all  the  while  she 
had  been  pushing  Madeline  out  of  his  life? 

Though  he  would  have  humbled  himself  in  the 
dust  to  drag  Made!  'e  Connor  down  for  all  the  in- 
sults of  his  humiliation,  the  thought  that  Mrs.  Ward 
whose  reputation  hung  on  his  breath,  could  have 
brought  that  degradation  at  the  girl's  hands  upon 
him  added  a  sense  of  baffled  helplessness.  He  had 
ridden  without  noting  where  he  went  till  the  cold  sea- 
tog  struck  his  face  in  a  misty  min;  and  he  remem- 
bered the  scream  that  had  emerged  from  that  mist 


466 


THE    Ni:\V    D.\\\"S 


lik  1  voice  from  the  past,  thf  last  time  he  had  been 
on  this  sea-road.  Then,  as  now,  he  thought  with  a 
curse  her  influence  had  unmanned  hini,  car  ;.;d  him 
off  his  feet,  brought  him  face  to  face  with  ..s'v  spec- 
ters of  the  recrudescent  beast  in  man.  Was  it  his 
fault  that  .vomen  liked  "their  fool  dreams  of  an 
ideal  love"  ?  Then,  he  had  laughed  at  those  dreams. 
Now,  he  cursed  them.  Then,  they  had  been  a  joke. 
Now,  they  somehow  silhouetted  his  own  conduct  in 
sharp,  dark,  dear  outlines.  Was  that  the  reason  he 
hated  her?  Hate  her  he  did,  with  all  the  power  in 
his  being,  in  exact  proportion  to  her  inP.jence  over 
him.  He  had  meant  not  to  go  one  hair's  breadth 
beyond  what  ■  safe.  Hebdcn  was  essentially  one 
of  the  safe  smners.  However  heavily  the  conse- 
quence of  his  acts  might  fall  on  others,  he  always 
took  good  care  to  keep  on  the  safe  side  of  conse- 
quences for  himself.  It  is  a  question  whether  the 
safe  sinner  or  the  convict  with  the  shaven  head  de- 
serve the  more  respect. 

The  hard-ridden  horse  gradually  slackened  pace 
to  a  walk,  and  came  to  a  stand  in  the  drifting  fog 
beside  the  moaning  sea.  The  reins  had  dropped 
from  the  man's  hand.  Far  back,  where  they  had 
watched  the  sunset  past  the  piazza  portiere,  were 
the  gathering  clouds  o''  storm.  Between  the  sea  and 
the  gathering  storm  the  man  felt  like  an  atom  be- 
tween two  eternities.  His  thoughts  recurred  to  half 
whispered  traditions  of  his  ancestors,  legends  of 
family  traits  that  flowed  through  the  sap  of  the 
family  tree  and  had  caused  the  lopping  of  a  branch 


BUT    IT    IS    TOO   LATI.  467 

here  and  there.    Wa,  the  curse  of  the  family  blood 

t-":Jitie:  ;';;r:;^•^r"r"r- 
^lthetran..ittcd^i;iJ;;ti:;^-i;;^^ 

he  future,  to  which  he.  in  turn,  would  trattthi 

;«::"•-  -'^.  he  transcend  handi;:;??  1v  ' Lr; 

Hebdenrhl""^^"  'V""'^^  ^"at  question  T: 
Mebden  s   habits   were    formed.      To-dav   wa,   thl 

"jlV     '"Tt^'-     '^^""^^  '''^  vices  I-rances 
tn.1,  he  petted  them,  and  excused  them  and  res  S 

""-'       He  fe  t  hmiself  an  atom  between  two  eter- 
ke  the  ch,p  tossed  by  the  tide  there,  between 
and  the  storm.     He  was  the  victim  of  his 
i"ns,  ns  the  sea  was  of  the  wind.    With  an 
^  spur,  mto  the  horse  and  headed  back 
Ihe  beast  stumbled    and  reared  with 
ig  scream;  and  the  scream  brought  back 
reproach  un.lcr  the  iron  hoofs,  the  face 
■'K.  upturned  eyes,  pleading  for  the  hope 
•out    n  d.-kness,  a  face  like  a  ghost 


'imsel 

nitic 

the  S'. 

own  I 

oath 

to  th 

a  whin: 
that  .''acd 
with  strc, 
that  was  t 
clutching  ou: 

"Damn  yoi 
between  set  tt 
from  a  seconu 


'le    juicKsands. 

ri(.    ulering  brute  !"  he  ground 

rk  fhat  lifted  the  horse 

•"'  1  he  rode  through  the 


468 


TMK  nl:vv  d  vvn 


i  I 

I 


darkening  mist  w.th  a  sort  of  terror  upon  him, 
craniiiR  forward,  inud-splashcd  from  head  to  heel, 
with  his  jaw  hard  set.     As  the  rain  slashed  slant- 
wise against    lis  face,  hot,  Mistering  tears-  vjch  as 
no  Don  Juan  would  ever  dare  to  shed  in  a  1  aok — 
coursed  down  both  checks.     .\nd,  of  course,  the 
g  •    debonair  Hcbdens — whom  we  know,  whom  we 
have  heard  joke  over  the  feat  of  having  wrecked 
a  life  or  two,  cast  down  to  dishonor  a  name  or 
two— never  flinch  before  the  grim  reality  of  their 
deeds  1     Of  c  urse,  though  possessed  of  lachrymal 
glands,  such     en  never  weep  and  beg  for  pity  when 
the  consciousness  of  guilt  lies  heavy  and  will  not 
lighten  for  all  the  self-excusings  cowardice  can  con- 
jure upl     Of  course  not    for  two  hours  later  saw 
Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  du      ing  his  vnlet  for  pack- 
ing so  slowly,  and  damnin^-  the  cook  that  the  supper 
had  grown  cold,  and  damning  the  butler  for  not 
returning  quicker  with  that  ticket  up  to  a  moose- 
hunting  country  in  Quebec,  where  Mr.  Dorval  Heb- 
den had  suddenly  decided  to  go. 

"Mind  you  buy  the  ticket  in  your  own  name!" 
he  had  called  as  the  butler  went  out. 
Then  he  laughed  to  himself. 
"If  the  servants  talk,  she  will  think  that  I  have 
gone  to  see  Madeline,"  he  thought. 

And  he  laughed  again,  both  at  his  own  acumen 
and  the  cringing  terror  of  the  servants  before  his 
displeasure.  So  successfully  had  Mr.  Dorval  Heb- 
den frightened  the  servants  that  they  neglected  to 
tell  him  there  had  called  over  the  telephone  a  lady's 


BUT   IT   IS   TOO   LATE  469 

voice,  which  they  .-,!!  rccoRni.cd  nmonR  thcm.clvc, 
— .t  was  the  voKc  of  one  to  whom   Mr.  Ilcbdcn', 
pnvate  numhcr  had  hcc„  ^ivcn.     When  the  but 
ha.I  called  hack  that  Mr.  Ilebden  wa,  .caving  that 
vc>y  n.Kht  to  hunt  moose  i.  Quebec,  the  telephone 
ad  run,  off  quickly.     ,V,idni«ht  found  Mr.  l]„     a 
Hebdcn  bo..rd,nK  the  Xe„   X.  -k  express  for  Mon- 
trcpl.   and  thankmg   Heaven   with   more   zest  than 
reverence  th.at  h,-  had  the  Pullman  entirely  to  him 
self,  cv-ept  for  one  party  in  deep  mourninR,  who 
sec-med  to  have  taken  both  staterooms  for  them- 

"I  say,  porter,  know  if  there  are  any  steamer, 
bound  from  Montreal  for  Europe  to-morrow?" 

t-an  t  say,  sah!     Don't  think  so.  sah !     Waz  ■■' 
wantm    to  go  t'  Europe  that  way?" 

Hebden  gave  the  colored  man  a  five  dollar  bill. 
No,  but  Ive  a  friend,  Holloway,  railway  man. 
wanted  me  to  wire  him  a  passage   across!     He's 
Been  up  m  the  moose  country!" 

The  porter  looked  at  f^ebden•s  luinting  gear 
done  up  .n  leather  casing,  and  ventured  the  remark 
that  whde  there  wern't  no  reg'lar  lines  sailin'  from 
Canaday  ports  to-morrow,  there  ":uz  a  nice  line  of 
slow  freighters." 

"Freighters— good  Lord!"  interrupted  Hebden 
with  sudden  solicitation  for  his  friend  Holloway 
but  these  fears  subsided  upon  the  porter's  assurances' 
that  the  freighters,  though  slow— to  which,  frien.l 
Holloway,  it  seems,  had  no  objection— had  cxc-llent 
accommodation  for  a  few  passengers. 


470 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


"Then,  I  wish  you'd  wire  for  me  at  the  next  sta- 
tion— best  cabin,  you  know — room  to  himself — 
give  the  name  HoUoway — passage  to  Europe  1 
Here's  the  telegraph  money,"  and  Hebden  increased 
the  porter's  wealth  by  another  five. 

On  reaching  Montreal,  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  evi- 
dently became  solicitous  about  friend  HoUoway 
going  aboard  the  freighter;  for,  instead  of  pro- 
ceeding to  the  moose  hunt,  he  hoisted  his  shooting 
traps  to  the  top  of  a  rickety  French  cab,  and  rattled 
away  down  hill  to  the  freighter's  wharf.  And  that 
evening,  as  the  freighter  slowed  up  opposite  the 
eerie  heights  of  gray  old  Quebec  for  the  pilot  to  go 
ashore,  there  came  up  on  deck,  not  friend  HoUo- 
way, but  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  himself,  outward 
bound  on  the  steamer. 

The  half  dozen  passengers  and  a  few  of  the 
:hip  hands  stood  aft  watching  the  church  spires, 
the  gray  ramparts,  the  sunlit  windows  of  the  hilled 
city  fade  over  the  water.  Hebden  drew  a  sigh  of 
relief,  and  lighted  a  cigar.  He  felt  like  a  prisoner 
who  has  been  acquitted  by  some  fluke  of  justice, 
and  has  resolved  to  build  up  a  better  future  on 
that  acquittal.  The  purser  addressed  him  pleas- 
antly, calling  him  Mr.  HoUoway. 

"Not  HoUoway;  Hebden,"  he  corrected,  offering 
the  purser  a  cigar.  "I  dare  say  the  telegram  got 
the  names  mixed!" 

He  turned,  sauntering  along  the  narrow  passage 
between  the  deck  house  and  railing,  feeling  none  of 
that  disquiet  with  which  Nemesis  is  supposed  to 


BUT   IT   IS   TOO   LATE  „, 

best  of  :!,"";'■  u    ''''  ''''''■     ^^'  teaches  u    the 

t»^:^°'wfrr.^%^r;et^:rr  ''^^°-^ 
^He  «n,er  pHnts  an.  hr?L:\:v;::: -^^''t^^^ 

and  scars  of  reality  become  obliterated.  The  slate 
swped  clear.     We  n,ay  begin  anew.     Held  „    e 

itrS^or^^fttiLrb^^^^"':---'- 

with  .  strong,  .ooi\ttrt"L'Zract'e7S 
have  struck  fire  in  noble  resolutions.  Wh  heTfhe 
■nfluence  of  his  past  in  the  fiber  of  his  cha     c  e 

iTTnftL7;Ttr^^ 

sidfofSl  ^P'""''.  °^  the  templed  hi]ls  on  each 

betve  n  Gr.        "'"'  ''""■    ^^'^'""'>-  •"=  didn't 
Delieve  ,n  God,  except  as  an  attenuated  Divinity  too 

completely  hidden  by  the  phenomena  of  Z  e   " 

oo  remotely  distant  behind  the  phenomena  o'na^ 

this  God  the  Great  First  Cause";  but  to-niffht 
with  the  calm  of  the  hills  around  him  lite  a  c't 
dral  peace,  and  the  river  flowing  to  meet  it  t. 

the  lar!"^  '"  °^f'"'''  '°  '-"'^^'"^  l^ws-and 
the  stars  swinging  through  an  infinity  of  worlds  in 
obedience   to  other  resistless  laws,   Hebden   som 
how  did  not  reason  about  the  Great  First  Cau« 


1 


472  THE   NEW    DAWN 

He  felt  God.  He  felt  his  spirit  enmeshed  in  the 
animal  frame  yearn  out  toward  that  other  Great 
Spirit,  behind  the  eternal  frame  of  things,  behind 
the  laws.  It  was  like  the  feeling  of  a  child  for  an 
absent  parent. 

The  tide  came  swinging  up  the  river  with  a  lap 
against  the  freighter's  keel,  and  Hebden  fell  to  won- 
dering about  the  Power  that  swung  that  tide  around 
the  globe  in  obedience  to  yet  other  laws.    He  won- 
dered—quite    quizzically     and     impersonally,     of 
course;  the  man  of  Hebden's  mould  always  keeps 
his  speculations  impersonal  enough  not  to  have  bear- 
ing on  his  own  deeds— he  wondered  whether  that 
Power  swinging  the  tide   round  the   globe  might 
not  swing  a  tide  of  another  sort  in  human  life.    He 
looked  back  on  his  recent  past  as  if  it  had  been 
another  man's  life,  wondering  that  life  could  be 
shaken  and  overthrown  by  the  mad  passions  of  de- 
sire,  and  remorse,   and  fear,   and  fate.     So  com- 
pletely did  the  peace  of  the  night  take  possession 
of  him,  so  completely  did  the  feeling  of  security 
still  the  mad-dogs  in  the  cellars  of  his  nature,  that  he 
asked  himself  if  such  mad-dogs  were  not,  after  all, 
hallucinations?    And  did  regret  tinge  his  thoughts? 
Not  a  shadow.     Because  the  mad-dogs  were  quies- 
cent here,  on  the  broad  river  flowing  seaward  among 
the  templed  hills,  he  felt  all  the  more  certain  that  the 
fault  lay  in  the  circumstances  that  aroused  the  mad- 
dogs,  not  in  himself.    If  he  had  had  a  taste  for  lit- 
erature, he  might  have  expended  his  pensive  emo- 
tions in  verse.     Men  whose  wives  have  died  of  their 


BUT   IT   IS   TOO   LATE  473 

brutality  have  written  beautiful  sonnets  on  the  de- 
ZTJ  r  "  ,""=  '"'P'"''°"^  °^  ^-J'  moods    and 
t'hoSt     """^  ""  ''^  ''■"'  ^°^  'l^^  ''-"^y  of 
Instead  of  making  verse,  Hebden  puffed  a  cigar 

"d  hf  deck'T^"  "?  '"'  '"'"^  ^"--  'he  rZg 
and  the  deck  house  m  a  pensive  mood,  which  he 

m.stook  for  repentance.     A  wind  sprang  up  astern 

ere  ^ST;?""^^""'"^''  ^"^  "'w  en  Tun" 
tered  farther  forward  to  escape  the  breeze.  Sud- 
den y  before  he  eould  turn  or  cdlect  his  senses  a 
veded  form  ,n  deep  mourning  stood  directly  acr;ss 

he    passageway       The    cigar    tumbled    from    h 
teeth.     The  veil  had  hfted,  and  there  looked  out 
wth  a  strange  light-a  serpent  sulphur  light    tht; 
was  hke  a  mocking  gleam  from  darkness-the  face 

ch?en  to  seT^"  '"  '''  ""^''^  ''''  ''  -""^  ''-^ 
"Y-o-u?"  he  stammered,  his  eyes  filling  with  ef- 
f^=mmae  tears  of  rage.  ^Tou  J.re  to  ho'u nd  after 
v^e?  It  ,s  not  enough  to  trap  a  man,  you  must  drag 
h.m  down  to  your  level?  If  you  had  no  respect  fof 
yourself,  you  m.ght  have  had  for  me!  Dare  to 
speak  to  -e  and  I'll  brand  you  from  the  ship's  gal 
ley  to  the  pilot  house!"  ^     *' 

"Do,"  she  answered  quickly  in  a  low,  grating 
vo.ce.  "Do;  and  I'll  add  to  their  inforn.ation  fact! 
of^your  past  that  will  brand  you  with  the  irons  of 

They  faced  each  other  in  silence  with  gleaming 
eyes,  these  two  who  had  exchanged  vows  too  great 


474 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


1    'li 


for  eternity  to  contain,  faced  each  other  with  a  hate 
that  branded  deeper  than  any  iron  could  mark, 
faced  each  other,  seeinR  nothing  but  the  havoc  each 
had  wrought,  faced  each  other  stripped  of  all  the 
pretense  with  which  they  had  decked  the  god  of 
clay  to  conceal  its  feet  before  they  had  knelt  down 
to  worship  it,  faced  each  other  and  knew  the  lie 

of  all  that  pretense 

"Damn  you!"  he  muttered  with  a  venom  of  hate. 
A  quick,  fierce  ;nolion,  and  he  had  struck  the  hand 
which  he  had  caressed,  and  kissed,  and  fondled,  and 
called  the  anchor  of  his  hopes. 

Mrs.  Ward  iV.\  not  speak.  She  did  not  cry  out. 
She  heard  his  footsteps  receding  angrily  along  the 
deck.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  saw  her  own 
career  stripped  of  pretense,  of  fine  words,  of  self- 
pity,  of  play-acting.  Leaning  her  head  on  both 
arms  above  the  railing,  she  wept  with  the  despair 
of  utter  hopelessness.  If  the  Angel  of  Pity  had  been 
there  it  might  have  shocked  the  Pharisees  by  whis- 
pering that  this,  the  hour  of  her  greatest  degrada- 
tion, of  her  lowest  abasement,  of  her  self-disdain, 
of  her  boundless  self-loathing,  was  the  •  .emest 
hour  in  her  life;  for  it  emptied  her  of  St...  The 
glorification  of  a  sublimed  ego  had  passed  out  of  her 
life  forever. 

Downstairs,  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  cursed,  and 
raved,  and  raged,  and  asked  himself  how  much  she 
knew.  If  he  had  been  badly  used  before,  what  was 
he  now,  when  he  felt  sure  that  Madeline  had  told 
Mrs.  Ward,  and  that  there  was  a  conspiracy  against 


BUT   IT   IS   TOO   LATE  475 

himself  ?    That  is  it!    There  is  always  a  conspiracy 

he  rest  of  that  long,  tedious  voyage  he  was  a  viru 
lent  woman-hater.     And  he  was'too  v  rde  t  y      a 
s,ck  to  appear  on  deck,  which  no  Don  Juan  e'r  was 
in  the  stones  of  ea"  derplvpi-c    »!,„  \ 
u        1  ^^   "cteivers,  tnoijT-h  some  ha  10 


\  •■ 


ll 


CHAPTER   XXXII 


THE   DAWN 


The  fishing  schooners  rocked  to  the  lazy  wash 
of  the  river  tide.  Madeline  shut  her  sketch  book, 
bunched  pillows  beneath  her  shoulders  at  the  bow, 
where  she  sat,  and  lay  back  to  watch  the  warm,  mid- 
day sun  among  the  purple  shadows  of  the  hills. 
Here,  the  clouds  had  stretched  a  floating  argosy  of 
fleece  across  the  slope  of  painted  forests.  There, 
the  yellow  autumn  light  smote  through  a  gap  of  the 
mountains  like  shafted  beams  from  the  throne  of 
God.  And  the  white-sailed  schooners  brooded  over 
the  river,  wings  at  poise. 

There  is  something  in  Indian  sumn  r  that  re- 
sembles a  beautiful  old  age.  The  sowi.ig  is  past; 
so  is  the  reaping.  The  frosts  have  come,  painting 
a  glory  of  russet  fields  and  crimsoned  woods,  like 
the  sorrows  of  life  that  have  etched  age  with  the 
lines  we  love;  but  over  the  mellowed  peace  of  a 
garnered  past  lies  an  afterglow,  a  renewed  youth. 
It  is  as  if  the  seal  of  "well-done"  were  nlaced  on 
the  year,  on  the  finished  life;  as  if  life  night  be 
lived  so  that  the  end  would  be  better  t'.ian  the  be- 
ginning; and  Madeline  gave  herself  v  to  the  reve- 
rie of  the  day  as  she  would  have  to  music  or  poetry. 
476 


THE   DAWN  .„ 

477 

I'ves  gracious  of  goodness  anHth;  u   "'"°'' 

■ess  discordane  thL  the"slL"k  ^'^VorSrVo^rS' 

rn  d,       ,,  ,„„^,_  ^^,  ^^^  priestfraft  slavery  a  s'fet 

^2:z:stz  :Ltr '-''  -^  ''-^" 

has  slk        '         '  ""'''  '^^"  "/'-  "^e  struggler 
norweallh  '^'  T''"'  "'"^ge-where  neither  fame 

sr,te:treTha:rLtr?or --'^ 

fame  was  af^rr.T  "''  '"  '^'  ^ity-where 

To  Be     Thir.  "''  •"'"  ^"e  content 

To  Do      „       '.'"'•'  T'  '"'•'*  '"  ^  ^^''"  endeavor 

ness  IS  strength,  but  in  quiet  confidence      "  ' 
smiled  whej 


heard  the  story  of  one  sweet 


nun 


I  ti 


478 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


who  always  turned  the  picture  of  her  saint's  face 
to  the  wall  when  her  prayers  were  not  answered. 
It  had  not  been  so  long  since  she,  herself,  wanted  to 
turn  her  mental  picture  of  God  to  the  wall,  because 
her  hopes  returned  to  her  empty. 

She  had  sought  out  a  quiet  retreat  in  the  con- 
vent.   At  first,  she  did  nothing  but  rest.    She  spent 
long  days  of  utter  solitude  in  the  shady  pine  woods. 
Even  in  "a  priest-ridden  country,"  you  see,  there 
are  advantages  over  a  civilization-ridden  country. 
She  could  not  have  had  such  safe  solitude  within  a 
hundred   miles  of  the  centers  of  civilization — the 
cities.      Solitude   in   civilization   must   always   keep 
within  ear-shot  of  a  policeman;  or  else  we  read  of 
the  college  student  thrown  from  his  horse  with  "a 
smashed  skull,"  the  girl  botanist  found  dead  at  the 
foot  of  a  cliff,  where  she  has  mysteriously  fallen. 
The  real  death  is  never  told,  for  civilization  has  a 
squeamish  stomach,  and  the  ruffian  of  civilization 
has  only  to  keep  near  enough  a  policeman — near 
enough  to  obliterate  murder  with  a  bribe — and  guilt 
is  safer  under  the  protection  of  civilization  with 
the  squeamish  stomach  than  out  in  the  wilds,  where 
primitive  instincts  act  swiftly  without  leave  of  senti- 
mentalists and  legal  quirks. 

And  then  came  hazy  autumn  days,  when  the  con- 
vent fisherman  took  Mndeline  out  in  his  schooner; 
sunny,  lazy  hours,  lounging  under  a  shifting  sail 
with  the  old  tar  droning  endless  yarns.  It  was 
about  this  time  that  Madeline  began  to  realize  that 
she  was  resting  not  only  in  the  pine  woods,  not 


THE    DAWN  ,„ 

h./Zh*"  ''  u  ^'^  ''"'^^•^"'y  ''«=""«  Love.  She 
had  been  crushed  when  she  broke  the  laws  Now 
she  was  blessed  in   the  keeping  of  them      At  al^l' 

rddi'hHrr^''-.""  '^'^^'''  herbuotc 
back  in        .fl*]^'  ''"  "P^'^'^y  f°^  >v°'-k  surged 
back  .n  such  floods  that  out  of  sheer  relief  frorn 
idleness  she  took  to  sketching  the  fisher  folk     sZ 
of  these  sketches  she  sent  to  the  art  editor,  PerkTs 
who  placed  them  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  window      To 
her  amazement,  demands  came  for  more  w^k  thl^ 
she  could  do.    And  Madeline  smiled  half  cynLllv 
when  she  had  needed  work,  none  could  be  found: 

ti:'\Trr^  '•  '-"^^  ^^-^  than  'he :  fd 

do    but,  as  she  knew  very  well,  this  was  only  an- 
other instance  of  natural  laws.     Before    she  h?^ 
been  working  against  nature;  and  the  who  'e    n  ver 
was  agamst  her.     Now,  she  worked  with  natur 
and  the  universe  worked  with  her 

It  was  like  a  new  light,  this  view  of  Law  a,  Love 

h'alfd     K:f  ••     '"^'"'^  °f  -  attenuated  ditinlty 
half  doubted,  .t  seemed  to  bring  God  down  a  pal^- 

day  life,  a  God  of  laws  in  which  she  lived  and 
moved  and  had  being;  laws  tending  to  one  gr.at 
end-Love.     She  did  not  believe  ifss  in  God  be 
cause  she  beheved  more  in  Law.    No  longer  would 


48(. 


THK    NKVV    DAWN 


she  turn  the  face  of  her  God  to  the  wall  in  unbe- 
lief; no  longer  lay  the  burden  of  blame  for  life's 
monstrous  wrongs  at  God's  feet;  no  Icmgcr  face 
such  wrongs  with  the  blasphemy  that  reproaches 
God  or  the  submission  which  is  a  worse  blasphemy. 
It  was  on  the  Law-BreaKcr,  not  the  I,aw-Mak;r,  that 
she  now  cast  blame;  and  the  belief  created  a  sort 
of  fierce  passion  for  goodness,  for  right;  an  un- 
shunnable  obligation  of  goodness  militant,  goodness 
stronger  than  evil,  goodness  that  smites  down  wrong 
with  the  zeal  of  the  fiery  prophets— not  because  of 
hatred  for  the  sinner,  but  of  jusiice  to  the  suf- 
ferer. 

In  a  word,  Madeline  Connor,  dieamer,  idealist, 
artist,  thinking  to  catch  the  form  of  the  beautiful 
on  her  canvas  and  to  ignore  the  ugly,  gave  up  her 
dreams  fDr  facts,  set  herself  to  making  ideals  real, 
learned  that  the  highest  art  of  all  is  not  the  art 
that  creates  a  picture,  but  the  art  that  creates  a  life, 
better  life,  life  that  can  become  an  ideal  for  human- 
ity. She  knew,  now,  how  much  higher  had  been  the 
aims  of  Truesdale — indifferent  to  her  art,  working 
with  the  rude  implements  of  the  marketplace,  weav- 
ing no  fine-spun  words  rounc^  the  battle  stress  of  the 
dusty  con.monplace — for  his  art  had  not  been  a 
beautiful  picture,  but  a  battle  against  the  Great- 
Blond-Beast-Spirit-of-the-Age,  a  battle  for  the  soul 
of  the  new  humanity,  a  victory  to  mark  one  more 
mile-post  in  the  progress  of  the  human  race  from 
animal  to  man.  And  she  knew,  too,  when  all  Law 
trended  to  Love,  and  all  Love  to  God,  that,  in  this 


THI-;    D    WN 


481 


"f  his     nn  chanijing  fan- 
'"K  f"-"'"  --ow.  and,  at  the 
-upt  >>n  fo     t|,.   grave.     .\|I 
I  af   ctcd    .Icty  which  has 
the     tend    of  stagnatior 
.'i'f  If.  ;ill  goodness  passed 
(•    cKiness  hccinK-  for  her 
■^h      noked  (  jt  on  life 
■'      'he    t<v,,  saw  a  hattle 


but  to  a  Venus  M 
cies — desire  to   i.iy, 
end  of  .;  wasted  lifi 
that  idle  scntimenr: 
diluted  modern  eh.. 
lireeds  a  poisonous 
"ut  of  Madeline's  i 
a  flame,  a  fierce  p.i  »,on, 
and,  like  Vard   „  his  yoi 


field;  but  the  battle 
over  that  battlefic' 


"f"r     ,  irht,n.,tP„,vcr.      And 

fhcr     bnK.,Jc<i,  not  the  Spirit 


*>pirit  of  Supreme 

"'ivcnt  tower  overlook- 

fitian  Hills.     In  the 

in  a  veil  over  the 


of  Supreme  Selfish  -ess.  in 
Selflessness — the  pirit  ..| 
Her  bedroom  v,  as  in  rnr 
ing  the  St.  Lawrence  an,  , 
mc  ning  when  she  rose  ,1., 
river    -in,}  fK  '  '"  *  ^'^"  °^"  the 

;hengn.ro,eofLwo^istb;:;ilr;xr 

hddhood  prayers     She  listened  to  ti     .natin  chime  • 

ship  to  thT  C    .    'L^'  ^""^''  ""'  '"  "■"'•'""»  wor- 

IVuesdale.     l(  I  1""  '^"''-     ''"  '""=  '^"^^  "^ 

!Zu     '  *^'"^'"S  means   running  all   round 

others  personality  with   an   impudenf  pryi.^of 

nes'sherlrt  ■''"!•  ""^  ""'"'  """  ="'  ^^  hazi- 
ness, her  dehght  m  Inmg,  her  joy  i„  the  glory  of 


482 


THi;  m:\v  dawn 


world's  beauty,  her  adoration  of  God,  who  was 
Love,  went  out  to  Truesdale  like  incense.  She  did 
not  think  cf  him;  she  lived  in  the  atmosphere  of 
her  love  for  him.  When  the  convent  chimes  rang 
out  their  cadences,  and  her  thoughts  were  wrapt 
away  in  the  ecstasy  of  devotion  that  music  or  death 
or  love  sometimes  brings,  she  did  not  enter  the 
church  with  the  other  worshippers,  but,  up  in  the 
pine  woods,  or  down  on  the  heaving  dock,  or  out 
in  the  old  fishern  an's  schooner,  she  heard  the  tide 
of  that  divine  music  which  rolls  to  an  eternal  sea; 
and  her  wordless  longing  was  that  this,  too,  might 
be  shared  with  him  wh()»e  human  love  had  taught 
her  the  glory  of  life. 

In  the  morning  she  remembered  that  other  morn- 
ing when  his  eyes  had  given  themselves  to  hers  in 
one  irrevocable  revelation  as  the  cab  clip-clopped 
down  Fifth  Avenue;  anc  ,  in  the  evening,  she  lived 
over  another  -  -eiiii.g  when  they  two  had  walked 
the  snowed  hillside  above  the  city  lights,  and  she- 
as well  as  Truesdale — had  received  sudden  revela- 
tion of  what  life's  purpose  was.  And  yet  these  two 
seldom  exchanged  letters.  They  had  not  exchanged 
a  single  kiss.  They  barely  knew  the  touch  of  each 
other's  hands. 

Indeed,  if  one  had  seen  Madeline's  comme  ts  on 
the  margins  of  books  at  this  time,  they  woul  have 
seemed  to  justify  Hebden's  bitter  thoughts  that  "she- 
was  a  shrew,"  "a  bit  of  hard  marble  that  should 
be  pulverized,"  and  much  more  that  a  refined  gen- 
tlem.an  of  Mr.  Hebden's  debonair  graces  is  per- 


Tin-:  DAWN 


<83 


story  in  which  the  D,vrh  ,  ''.»'',\^"  ^"'''"K  =•  love 
red  in  the    ac    'nd  n^  7?V^'  •''"''  '''^'  •'""'"'^ 

apoplectic  vl:w^:;!^':J;:f'7V''^  "7  "'''' 

that  way.     The  storv  «..  "^  ""'   ''^''''   '" 

convulsive     yn.,  tom^  ^f  17,  ""''"''"'  '^""'  '^'^ 

-etc  .wo  wordsZ-sSfva::' ;'"""«'  ^""- 
Xt;-t£~r 

lost  her  o;n    ou    «  t'o  ?h;r'  "  "°"l^  "'^'^ 

Within  the  court  of  love,  let  silence  reign. 
About  the  door,  dark  satyr-faces  leer 
Envy  and  lust  and  .'.ate  press  close  to'hear 
Loves  music,  and   .nterprct  that  sueet  st;ain 


484 


THE    NEW    DAWN 

If  vice  still  mask  beneath  a  virtuous  cloak, 
Using  love's  language  as  a  bait  to  thought- 
Let  love  speak  clear  in  deeds,  and  so  revoke 
The  power  of  evil  by  fair  semblance  wrought- 
If  deeds  alone  speak  love,  vice  is  undone- 
Vice  must  turn  virtue  e'er  good  fruit  be  won. 


And  then  she  fell  to  dreaming  with  the  languor- 
ous river  tide  sheen  as  silver  in  the  noonday  sun. 
The    schooner    rocked    and    swayed    and   bumped 
against  the  laving  docks.     Madeline  gathered  up 
her  pillows,  clambered  from  the  schooner  ashore, 
and  walked  absendy  out  the  full  length  of  an  old 
breakwater  pier,  where  she  again  ensconced  herself 
among  the  pillows  in  the  sun.     A  consciousness,  a 
nearness,  a  rapture,  a  sense  of  Love's  presence  swept 
over  her  in  such  floods  that  she  fancied  she  felt  as 
seeds  pushing  up  through  dark  of  earth  to  meet  sun 
rays  must  feel— as  if  those  rays  were  the  call  of 
God's  voice,  the  fiat  of  new  life.    What  did  she 
dream?  There  was  no  ear  to  hear;  so  she  told  it  to 
her  sketch  book,  writing  swiftly  without  the  erasure 
of  a  single  word,  as  if  the  rhythm  of  the  sun's  rays 
beating  into  earth,   the  rhythm  of  earth  swinging 
through  space  in  answer  to  the  pulsations  of  the 
sun,  echoed  to  the  rhythm  of  her  own  being,  pulsing 
like  the  beat  of  dancer's  feet  to  the  rhythm  of  a 
Universe  Love.     She  could  no  more  have  expressed 
her  emotions  in  anything  but  rhythm  just  now  than 
prehistoric  races  could  have  expressed  their  emo- 
tions in  anything  but  dances.     Mere  words  could 


THE   DAWN 


485 


not  express  the  pulse  of  soul  to  that  divine  music  of 
a  Universe  Love.  Verse  had  the  beat  of?  Lb 
in  .ts  measure;  so  she  wrote  in  verse: 

If  you  are  all  I  dream  of  you 
And  I  but  half  you  hope  of  me- 
Then    then,  dear  love,  life  is  too  short, 
Too  brief,  by  far,  eternity- 

Our  love  outsounds  the  utmost  bounds 
Ut  this  poor  earth's  felicity 

*  •  » 

•  *  • 

If  you  are  all  I  dream  of  you. 
And  I  but  half  you  hope  of  me— 
I  gather  grace  to  gain  the  more 
And  pray  that  I  n,ay  worthier  be- 
To  love  like  thine  I  pour  the  wine 
Of  my  heart's  offering  back  to  thee' 

*  *  *  » 

If  you  are  all  I  dream  of  you 
And  I  but  half  you  hope  of  me— 
Dear  heart,  such  love  comes  forth  from  God, 
lis  dowered  with   immortality! 
Love!    Lend  us  wings  to  leave  low  things, 
10  make  this  dream  reality! 

A  Shadow  fell  across  the  sicetch-book.     At  first 

he  thought  It  was  one  of  the  river  steamers  whh 

sheered  close  ashore  at  this  point;  but  the  shadovv 

ther^'n^ "d  '''  '""'''  ""  '"'  ^^  ''"^  ^ 
th.r  h  r  ?'"'  "°'  "  '^'^°'^-     The  thoughts 

tha  had  yearned  out  to  meet  kindred  thoughts  the 
soul  that  had  pulsed  to  the  heat  of  a  Universe  Love^ 
the  highest  hopes  that  she  had  ever  dared  to  drLm 


h  ! 


486 


THE   NEW    PAWN 


stood  face  to  face,  silent,  awed  with  their  reality 
in  such  a  sun-bathed  effulgence  of  glory   as  earth 
must  have  known  on  the  first  breaking  of  light. 
"I  have  just  come  in  on  the  stage,"  said  Trues- 

dale. 

She  slapped  her  sketch-book  shut  as  if  caught  m 
crime.  They  did  not  remember  till  long  afterward 
that  each  had  forgotten  to  shake  hands. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF 

EvERvoNE  knows  the  rest  of  Ward's  scheme  for 

Zd  thr";  '^°"  '^""''""^^  °^  shareholders 
found  themselves  m  possession  of  stock  not  wor^h 
the  value  of  the  paper  on  which  it  was  engross  d 

after   he  first  payment,  there  were  no  dividends       ' 

Dot,  ■  r?  u""'/"""'""'  P'^''^^^'  °f  human  nature 
Dogs  hck  the  hand  that  beats  them.  So  do  men 
There  wa,  very  small  shrinkage  of  the  adulaTon 
grovel,^g    o,„,  Ward's  feet,     fie  represenlt  ^ 

Power  So  '"""'''^  ^!"''°"^-  "^  «Present,..d 
lower.  Some  natures  will  always  worship  that 
Tnmty,  though  there  was  a  dumb  wonder  ly  he 
stock  venture  had  not  turned  out  the  ,  me  for  the 
shar.  .olders  as  for  Ward.  The  reason  11? 
P>e.     They  held  the  wrong  end  o!  TZZ  ^"of" 

tirw  TJTu"'  '°'  ^  great-deal-of-some! 
thmg— Ward  had  the  something.  They  had  th. 
nothmg.  There  were  a  few  compla.nt  .  tst  n 
bankruptcy  courts,  then  in  legislatures;  but  tie 
ban..ruptcy  proceedings  collapsed  in  a  compromise 
so  wonderfully  vague  that  no  one  knew  what 
meant;  and  the  legislators  bade  the  losers  profit  by 
487 


488 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


experience — the  only  profit  from  this  deal  for  the 
public. 

The  striice  was  another  matter.  The  elemental 
sensations  have  a  primordial  fashion  of  casting  oft 
the  vestments  of  convention.  Get  a  man  cold  or 
hungry  enough,  and  he  is  as  indifferent  to  the 
preacher  as  to  the  police  magistrate.  As  winter  ap- 
proached, there  arose  what  Dillon  had  forewarned 
and  Ward  derided — a  vague  but  unmistakable  voice, 
the  sentiment  of  the  people,  which  said  without  any 
mincing  of  words — profits  or  no  profits,  the  public 
must  have  cheaper  fuel;  cheaper  living.  Sentiment 
is  chiefly  commerciable  at  election  time.  The  legis- 
lators gave  more  heed  to  this  voice  than  that  of  the 
shareholders.  All  sorts  of  communications  passed 
between  Ward  and  the  government.  Ward  held 
out  like  iron.  The  strikers  held  out  like  iron;  and 
the  price  of  fuel  and  food  went  up  till  the  poor 
were  smashing  up  window  sashes  and  door  casings 
in  the  tenements  for  firewood. 

The  voice  of  the  people  became  a  little  louder, 
the  voice  of  the  editors  a  little  more  ambiguously 
bold,  the  voice  of  the  government  more  urgent. 
Ward  donated  ten  thousand  more  tons  of  coal  to 
the  poor,  which  the  newspapers  again  exaggerated 
into  a  hundred  thousand;  and,  when  price  touched 
top  notch.  Ward  sold  all  the  worthless  waste  of  the 
coal  dumps. 

Whether  Ward  took  in  the  significance  of  what 
the  strike  meant,  or  whether  his  mind  had  been  so 
long  accustomed  to  the  egoist's  point  of  view  that 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  4S, 

tell       H-.  I  .     *"  — "^   vvoul-l   be   hard    f<i 

Brute  Force  as  h?h  T^  "'"^^/  ^°  ^'"  '^'''"-'  "^ 
-^^;HeCre^.^l-— ^■-^- 
-t  of  the  sSf  Wh""'  T''  ''^'''  ^-^f- 
:villbechaH;n:dth:r  "^ytL?  llf"  ''^ 
.s  a  chance  of  charity  and  .oo^^l"  ..^td  tr 
non  b.rds  of  mankind  will  flock.  Neith  r  W  '  j 
nor  McGee  had  counted  on  this     Each  h.Zh       u 


k    >«.^fEll 


490 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


was  the  rabble  th  ;t  spat  in  his  face;  and  that  there 
could  b  no  such  thing  as  the  corruption  of  law  at 
the  pons  if  there  were  no  rabble  to  be  corrupted. 
The  weak-brained  had  a  rare  chance  for  the  no- 
toriety of  melodrama.  Anarchy  lifted  up  her  voice, 
and — shrieked.  Conservatism  grew  hysterical.  Hun- 
gry folk  of  the  gritless  order  drank  carbolic  acid  in 
street  cars,  or  blew  their  brains  out  on  city  squares. 
To  these  disorders  neithe,-  Ward  nor  McGee  paid 
more  heed  than  a  locomotive  with  full  steam  up  does 
to  toads  on  the  track.  People  who  justify  them- 
selves usually  need  it.  Neither  Ward  nor  McGee 
felt  that  he  needed  it.  Each  had  one  aim — to  Win 
— to  Win  by  Force!  Each  believed  that  he  was 
playing  his  game  according  to  great  economic  laws 
underlying  life.  Neither  purposed  letting  milk-and- 
water,  wish-washy  sentiment  interfere  with  those 
laws.  When  the  clergy  began  giving  advice,  it  was 
like  advising  gladiators  to  let  go.  Either  would  let 
go,  if  the  other  would  quit  first.  "Bloodless  war" — 
the  clergy  called  it;  but  it  was  not  deathless.  Every- 
where the  death  rate  increased  among  the  poor. 
Then  the  death  rate  began  to  creep  up  among  the 
workers,  who  were  out  of  work,  and  the  hospitals, 
where  fuel  was  scarce,  and  the  slums,  where  high 
freights  caused  high  priced  food.  It  was  in  vain 
that  pulpit  and  press  looked  to  history  for  guidance 
in  such  a  dilemma.  There  was  no  guidance  from 
the  past,  only  a  finger  of  warning  from  the  chroni- 
cles of  some  of  the  old  democracies :  when  the  rich 
and  poor  got  each  other  in  grapples  in  those  days, 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  49, 
;t^was  the  n,an  with  the  sword  who  stopped  the 

everrt'^deHn'th '''""". '^*"""  ^""'^  ''"'^  -hat 
tell  m!  '•  W  V  J'  '"""""^  "  ^°'"8-l'd  like  you  to 
III    \      u-'^  d«='"='nded  of  Dillon  one  ni/ht    as 

^rco:^/jr' '-'' ''-^  ^'-^^"^^ 

"Doesn't  every  tradesman  in  the  land  hire  heln  at 
he  lowest  possible  price,  and  sell  goods  at  the  hLJ 
est  possible  price?     Isn't  that  what  I  am  doinLr 
The  old  ,„,„,,  y.„^^j  ^^^^  apoplec  icallv 

he     as    o,es  I     That's  going  to  open'  the  dolr  fo  a" 
tha^il"  '"«^-«°^""'nent  interference,  and  all 

roared  WrrnT'-  ""f  Government  be  damned." 
roared  Ward  funously.  "What  business  would  the 
government  have  to  interfere  between  my  wife  and 

satisZH  H  '  •'""'r  °'  "^^«?  ''  the  maid  i  n't 
satisfied,  she  quits:  that's  all!     No  one  compels  tie 

Vm"it7Th'''\"'^'     I^  the  wages  don-rS  1 
em  quit!     They  have  no  more  business  to  compel 

pe  themTo''^".';^'r  "^^"  '''"  '  ''^^  *°  -- 
pel  tnem  to  work  for  lower  wages!" 

"Tell    you    what.    Dillon;    this    talk   of   govern- 

-Side'ttr'  ''r-  '''''''  '"''  government'mean? 
rfle  7  .  '  f  °^'  "^"""Sh  to  hold  the  whip  han- 
dle, doesn  t  .t?-And  side    that's  strong  enough  to 


492 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


I  f 


hold  the  whip  handle  deserves  to  hold  it — doesn't 
it? — Are  you  going  to  hand  the  government  of  this 
country  over  to  a  lot  of  incompetent  jackasses  with 
no  thought  aboxe  Iheir  belts?  I  guess  I  know  what 
that  means,  Dillon :  that  was  my  father,  about  as 
competent  to  say  how  a  country  should  be  gov- 
erned as  a — well — we'll  not  say!  Who  is  fit  to  be 
the  government — I'd  like  to  know — but  the  men 
who  have  proved  their  fitness  by  creating  the  biggest 
interesti  in  the  country?" 

"That's  all  right — that's  all  right,"  blinked  the 
colonel,  feeling  himself  in  deep  water,  "but,  as  I've 
told  yoiv  Ward,  I  don't  care  one  damn  who  is  the 
government,  or  how  the  country  is  governed. 
Neither  does  the  average  man!  I'm  not  out  for 
glory,  and  Europe,  and  that  sort  of  thing!  This 
proposition  as  I  work  it  out  is — which  side  is  going 
to  knuckle  under?" 

"The  weak  side,  of  course !  The  weak  side  sur- 
renders first!  The  strong  side  wins  out  every  time; 
and  that's  right!  Way  some  of  these  fools  talk, 
you'd  think  the  earth  ought  to  be  given  as  a  Christ- 
mas present  to  all  the  lazy  lubbers  who  haven't 
gumption  enough  to  get  up  and  quit  being  slugs  on 
the  under  side  of  the  board;  you'd  think  that  men 
who  haven't  sense  enough  to  manage  to  feed  their 
own  children  should  be  allowed  to  manage  the 
country!  That's  why  I  say  it  is  right  when  the 
strong  side  wins  out!  That's  why  if  the  government 
pokes  its  nose  in  this  afiair,  I'll  sec  that  the  govern- 
ment changes  the  stripe  of  its  colors — the  govern- 


nu;  CREED  CONFRONTS  n  SELF  493 
-n-uhas  no  ,„„rc  right  to  side  with  labor  than  with 

-;:^rp:::^ist:".^^hS---pii 

gentleman,  feding  not  onlv  tlJthl  "''^ 

»:="^;l;-[-,;r;„-;::;-;f,- ^ 

\ou  .m-an  to  bring  in  non-union "  ' 

n  n     1      f"''"'  ''"'  '^°='''  ^^here  is  the  kick    Colo 

consider  the  outside "  "«  '»  end.--     If  wc 

Lor?"lt'''  f,'''""-"V°"''«"^"='--'^'  Good 

«r„  ,h„„„„d    <„  b,  i„  „„  ,^  „      P      "'y;       The 

iccttnosemt.     oming  in  to-night?" 

The  secretary  glided  softly   into  the   office    ca 
ressing  his  beard  abstractedly.  ' 

"Not  only  the  local   militia '      I  telpnh,.„  A  .u 
governor  to  have  the  State  troops  .-ady'r"'^'^  "*^ 


If 


494 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


f        'ii 


Colonel  Dillon  rose  from  his  chair,  buttoning  hii 
coat. 

"It's  only  a  quarter  to  ten,  Colonel!  Going  so 
early?" 

"I  .  .  .  .  have  an  appointment  with  a  man  I  I 
wish  we  were  well  out  of  it,  Ward !  There  will  be 
the  deuce  to  pay  if  you  bring  those  foreigners  in 
here!  What  if  they  join  the  World  Workers,  as 
McGee  boasts?  We've  scored  right  up  to  this  strike 
business!  It's  the  strike  knocked  the  bottom  out 
of  the  market  and  scared  the  investors  off!  We 
might  have  doubled  proceeds  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
this  strike!  Good  Lord,  the  pool  could  have  fed 
out  lines  to  the  market  for  another  year  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  this  strike!  Elevator  running  yet?  It  is 
....  eh?  McGee  boy  running  it?  Relative  of 
that  firebrand,  who's  played  the  mischief  .... 
isn't  he?  I  wish  we  were  out  of  this  thing,  Ward!" 
He  stood  buttoning  hij  gloves.  "Anyway,  you  can 
count  on  me  to  back  you  up  when  you  have  things 
settled,"  and  the  director  took  his  portly  person  off 
with  a  vast  waddling  of  loose  flesh  through  Saun- 
ders' office. 

"Count  on  him  ....  when  things  are  settled 
....  when  the  figi."-  has  been  won  without  a  smell 
of  hot  shot  round  his  red  nose?  That's  your  safe 
always:   preaches  you  a  sermon  if  you 


fail,   sings  a   te   deum  if  you   succeed! 
doesn't  seem  at  par  to-night,  Saunders." 
Mr.  Saunders  faintly  smiled. 


Courage 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  495 

nf'ih-'"^  T/'  t  T/"'"*'  "'  '^°"'*  '""=  »»•«  look 
of  things,  Mr.  Ward." 

Th.  trouble  with  the  Great  Blond  Beast  is,  when 
■t  .s  a  man.   ,t  thinks.     Ward  had  had  his  own 
thoughts  of  th„  servile  tool  ir,  the  per,on  of  the 
secretary  ever  since  he  saw  Saunders  at  the  trial, 
and  qu.ckly  guessed  that  Kipp's  salary  had  not  been 
sen    to  Feru.    Tools  were  necessary  to  Tom  Ward, 
tools  that  cut;  but  he  took  good  care  to  hold  the 
hand  es  of  such  tools.     If  the  government  were  to 
.nterfere,  ,t  would  be  a,  well  to  have  a  grip  of  iron 
on  the  handle  of  this  particular  tool.     A  man  may 
ha  e  you,  or  want  to  drain  your  purse  or  your  blood, 
buff  he  can  only  do  it  by  hanging  himself,  he  is 
not  hkely  to  try.     That  was  why  Ward  always  made 
a  pomt  of  puttmg  dangerous  people  at  his  mercy. 
He  put  them  there,  and  kept  them  there. 

Don't  like  the  look  of  what?"  he  asked  sharply. 
Do  you  mean  the  corpse  of  that  fool  engineer? 
Neither  do  I  l,ke  the  look  of  that,  Saunders;  and 
1  like  his  salary  charged  up  to  your  credit  less  I" 

i  he  hand  caressing  Saunders'  beard  dropped  like 
lead.  1  he  ferret  eyes  opene'  wide,  like  a  thine 
cornered  too  suddenly  for  crs  .  He  moistened  his 
lips  twice. 

By  this  time  the  president  was  looking  at  him,  and 
the  look  suggested  another  line  of  thought. 
_^  "I  understood,"  answered  the  secretary  thickly 
that  I  was  not  to  involve  the  company  ..." 
that,  in  fact,  you  preferred  this  case  should  not  be 
reported  to  you?" 


496 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"But  did  you  understand  you  were  to  appropriate 
a  dead  man's  salary?"  demanded  Ward  harshly. 

Saunders  drew  up  as  if  an  impending  blow  had 
been  averted. 

Then  the  president  didn't  know?  It  was  the 
money  that  was  causing  trouble. 

The  secretary's  thoughts  raced  in  the  leaps  of  a 
pursued  weasel,  and  his  eyes  closed  to  the  customary, 
furtive  slit. 

"I  understood  I  was  to  draw  on  the  contingency 

fund,"  he  explained.     "And and 

the  company  had  to  pay  the  widow  ofifl" 

For  a  moment  Ward  sat  perfectly,  stonily  still, 
his  eyes  opening  and  concentrating  .  the  secretary's 
closed  and  shifted.  There  was  silentt,  broken  only 
by  the  even,  measured  ticking  of  the  office  clock. 

Then  the  chimrs  of  the  city  square  rang  out 

one two three,    and   Ward   had 

bounced  to  his  feet  with  an  ejaculation  that  was 
wordless. 

"So  that  is  it?"  he  exclaimed  ferociously. 

Four five six I    The 

measured  strokes  beat  not  half  so  loudly  as  the  sec- 
retary's heart.  There  was  a  pounding  in  his  temples 
that  dulled  thought,  a  stab  like  vampire  teeth  at  the 
base  of  his  brain,  a  strange,  parching  fever  in  the 
roof  of  his  mouth;  still  he  stood  there,  dejected, 
waiting,  soft  and  furtive  in  his  steal'!    as  a  cat. 

"By  God,  sir,  now  ....  I  uniiwistand,"  thun- 
dered Ward,  seizing  both  sides  of  the  desk  so  that 
the  wood  creaked. 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  497 

^.^'K'" nine t^nl 

chimes.  •  •  icni ra„g  ^^^^ 

vanced  till  he  wa,  against  the  J,',  '^.J^  ^l^;';'  -'" 
-ng  over  hi,,,  „„,„,,,  „;„^,^^  ':;:;;;7"^'  ^°- 

'h-the.anwas\,ea;.\\';'tf;rth-HV 
h^-dheen    found?.     "  "  "^^     '^e    hody 

was  dead  out  in  the  river'"  "'"  y"u  k      ... 

Saunders  looked  up.     He  would  have  spc     „    ■,. 
hs  tongue  uttered  no  sound;  and  he  saw'         " 
the  presuienfs  eyes  that  was  not  a  look    o  sid.steo 

S::^H:n:h::e;;;rw::^.:;-^^^^ 

-n  his  bloodless,  upturned  f.:t     e^      d  t3 

^r;:^^::u:r/t:'-— 4rt 

A  tremulous  groan  escaped  from  the  yellow  lips 

And  that's  what  McGee  meant?  .         That  ^' 

why  he  could  have  torn  the  lying  Jezebel  to  pL 

for  perjury?  ....   That  is  why  he  went  fi'hi  " 

opposite  the  pool,  which  you  had  filled  up'" 


498 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


M  I'' 

■::|- 

n  I 


O- V  up  on  your  feet! — It  is  always  weak  tools  like 
/uu  spoke  1  e  wheels  of  things " 

The  sei  .etary's  teeth  were  chattering,  but  he  lied 
ti-  'he  ena,  or  rather — he  accomplished  a  more  no- 
table feat.  He  told  the  truth  and  lied  in  the  same 
words. 

"I,"  with  a  long  pause,  "I  gave  no  orders  to  fill 
the  shaft!  The  foreman  filled  it  without  orders 
while  I  was  changing  my  suit!  It  was  a  terrible 
mistake.  I  know  no  more  of  Kipp's  death  than  you 
do " 

"And  I  know  too  much,"  harshly  interrupted  the 
president.  "And  I'll  know  more  when  I  see  Mc- 
Gee!  Make  a  note  of  that!  I'll  see  McGeel  If 
you  are  guilty,  you'll  sign  a  contract  for  a  hotter 
place  than  this  office  ....  I'll  see  that  McGee 
boy,  and 

As  if  conjured  from  the  floor,  Budd  McGee  burst 
through  the  felt  door  panting,  white-faced,  a  picture 
of  terror. 

"The  soldiers  are  comin',"  he  gasped,  "and 
there's  a  mob — in  the  street — below." 

For  an  instant  there  was  no  sound  but  the  ticking 
of  the  clock.  Then  something  rolling  in  the  dis- 
tance set  the  air  palpitating. 

"Double-bolt  the  front  door,"  ordered  the  presi- 
dent. "Swing  the  iron  gate,  boy"  And  he  switched 
out  the  electric  light,  leaving  the  office  in  darkness. 

It  was  like  an  ominous  growl,  long,  low,  oncom- 
ing, a  storm  rising  at  sea,  the  far  r-u-s-h  of  a  mighty 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  499 

wind  that  set  earth  and  air  palpitating,  the  swift  beat 
of  an  army  of  marching  feet. 

"Those  men   are   running!"  observed  the  presi- 

turned  peremptorily. 

'■Saunders,  telephone  the  governor  to  send  the 

State  troops  at  once!     And Saunders 

you  needn't  chatter  all  your  teeth  down  yo  rihroai 
at  once!     We're  perfectly  safe  here!"    ^  "' "''°"* 

i  he  secretary  vanished  in  the  dark  of  the  hall 

I^Tt'"'  ""■"'■''^  ^""'^  '°  the  window,  standing 

■n  the  shadow  of  the  casement.     It  was  lik    th    w  nj 

o       nsmg  storm  at  first-a  deep,  full  diapason.  Then 

him     to   a    scream,   then   the   voices 'of  h'uman 

Zntl'  :  ■   ■   •.""'P='"t ravenous  .   . 

bloodthirsty,   settmg  the  hollow  between   the  high 
buddmgs  atremble  with  a  cry  ....  ,  hideous  crJ 

tliroated,   .  .   .  shnekmg   for  its  prey:    the   Great 
Blond  Bea  .,  gone  mad-the  spirit  of  t'he  Mob !        ' 
A  thnll  ran  round  Ward's  scalp.    He  felt  a  curi- 
ous t,ng  ,ng,  stmging  back  and  forward  to  his  Lge  - 
t.ps,  but  It  was  not  fear.    It  was  a  fascination   hvD 
nofc  and  frenzied-the  Spirit  of  the  Mob  gon^  mad 
down  there-the  Spirit,  mad  in  his  own  blooS   wi  h 
a  drunkenness  of  Destruction,  hurling  men  our  of 
themselves    out  of  civilization,  mad  with  only  one 
desire   and  that  a  Conflagration  !    Power  ' 
thought  that  he  knew  what  Power  was— 1 


owcr?    He  had 
r  was— One-Man 


500 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


Power!  But  there  was  Ten-Million-Man  Power, 
power  enough  to  blow  up  the  universe  with  pent 
force  1  Death?  What  did  this  mad-beast  Thing 
care  for  death?  It  was  a  ghoul  to  send  death  laugh- 
ter echoing  down  to  the  corridors  of  eternity  I 

It  came  to  him,  standing  alone  in  the  darkness 
....  this    power  ....  was  ....  the    People, 
...  the    American     People,  .  .  .  outraged,  .  . 
balked  of  Justice,  ....  baffled   of   Rights,  .  . 
bursting  off  all  bonds  of  Justice  and  Right,  .   .  . 
about  to  do  what  he  had  been  doing  all  his  life 
trample  Justice  and  Right  under  its  feet! 

In  the  most  impersonal  way,  as  though  he  were 
watching  a  pantomime  ....  a  horrible  pantomime 
of  Men  reeling  back  to  the  Beast — he  realized  that 

they the      frenzied     People the 

myriad-throated,  maniacal  Thing  ....  seeking  its 
prey  ....  ravenous  to  glut  lust  of  hunger  and 
vengeance  in  blood — were  seeking  Him  .  .  .  . 
Tom  Ward  ....  the  Unit,  that  had  thought  to 
dominate  the  Mass ! 

Then  a  voice  quivering  with  a  palsy  of  terror  was 
sputtering  incoherently  in  the  dark. 

"They  are  at  every  door!  What  will  we  do? 
.  .  .  All  the  fire  escapes  lead  down  to  the  street! 
The  State  troops  are  coming,  but  the  track's  been 
pulled  up  to  keep  out  the  foreigners !  They  are 
shouting  ....  names !" 

The  secretary  was  weeping  in  great  wrenching 
sobs  from  the  pit  of  his  craven  stomach.  His  man- 
hood, held  together  by  the  flimsiest  hypocrisy,  now 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  501 

-'as,   stripped  niedrl^r'i;  £r""',f  '°^'""- 
quaking  Terror!  "^^^  ^^^^  ^as  a 

wl'rd°''.S:;S'^'°"  '^"r  --^'J'"  O'-dered 
is  to  get  ou    of  ?he  h    ."r"  Tf  ''"^-     ^^e  thing 

-•n  fact  before  t  "^^  "  '^"'  '''°^  '"  "P 

^Lc  oerore  the  music  heains '    VVhv  =1,  >  r  j 

.-spec  *el;„,XX::  „?«??,'■'    "= 

snalce's   blood    man    ,L.    '"'^  "and  off— have  you 

Stand  back,   sirrUfo^^re^rTr'/^"^"' • 

hunger,  down  there,  Saunders-h  ,n  ^"'"'"'  '' 

Strange,  as  the  mob  h     !   P     ^"  ^"""^  '"ad!" 


502 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


man  might  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  soul  1 
— Theft  in  the  gross,  and  theft  in  the  small:  what 
was  the  difference? — Against  Justice,  against  Pity, 
against  Right — he  had  written  ....  Zero! 
Against  Justice,  against  Pity,  against  Right — the 
Mad-Beast  Voice  screamed,  shrieked  its  .  .  . 
Zero! — Force,  the  victory  of  Brute  Strength,  the 
conquest  of  Might:  that  had  been  his  creed  !  There, 
then,  was  his  creed,  myriad-throated,  let  loose,  gone 
mad  in  the  Mob! — Law — he  had  laughed  at  law! 
There,  then,  was  lawlessness  let  loose!— What  was 
to  bind  this  behemoth  of  turb'd  riot,  this  Stalliing 
Darkness?  What  to  restrain  it  from  avenging  Un- 
punished Wrong,  Naked  Want,  Anxious  Fright? — 
He  had  cast  restraint  to  the  winds;  so  had  the 
Mob! — he  had  espoused  Force! — There,  then,  was 
Force  unleashed! 

"You  have  broken  down  law,"  the  clock  ticked 
out  to  eternity.  "You  have  defied  every  bond  that 
binds  man  to  man,  that  keeps  man  from  becoming 
dowti  respect  of  government  with  a  bribe !  How  do 
you  like  it? — You  have  pilfered  from  the  many,  and 
crushed  the  weak,  and  corrupted  justice,  and  broken 
down  respect  of  government  with  a  bribe !  How  do 
you  like  it  when  the  many  come  to  Icot  you  with  vio- 
lence; when  you  are  the  weak;  when  the  justice  you 
have  corrupted  cannot  defend  you;  when  the  virtue 
of  government  violated  by  a  bribe  becomes — Lynch 
;,aw? — There  are  your  deeds:  eat  the  fruits!  You 
brewed  the  hemlock:   drink  it! 

"The  she-dogs  of  Hell   and  of  Hate— are  let 


*^H:r 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  503 
loose  I     Who  unleashed  them?_The  Great  BInn  I 

hool-  ,h  7    "n,"  ''""  y""^  measure  o    la  - 

scneme      of      existence  .  .  .  Ward'  \Vh 

h^ve  your  little  plans  shpped  a  cog?"'    '   '  ' 

He  heard  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  just  as  we  miv 
no  -ce  the  perfume  of  a  flower  in  a  dea  h  chan^rr' 
un  onsaously ;  ana  ,t  gave  hin,  a  curious  feeling  of  a' 
fr.        iT  T  ^'"'"^"''ty-  luite  Alone,  utterly  cut 
from  all  bonds,  utterly  beyond  earth  and  the  co" 
quests  o     earth    wending  darkly  through  Etern   y 
...  .always.  Alone;  and  unconsciously  h.  began 
breath.ng   very   heavily    and    fast  ....  like   f!' 
s  ndcen.    Humanity  had  been  to  him  a  ThiniVb! 

i^r.-.-.-anJ^Ib^tr^^"^--^-;- 
hzation  go.ng  down  under  the  multitudinous  fm'of 
the  Great  B  end  Beait  j  u    ■ 

L-  ,„  ,  . .    ,  I    '"  '^^^^^ and  he  knew  that 

he  and  h,s  kmd,  more  than  the  mob  whom  they  de 
spised,  had  caused  its  overthrow. 

In  the  street,   McGee,  the  labor  delegate,  was 
strugghnf  between  the  mob  and  the  iron  doors  of 


504 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


w  I 


the  Great  Consolidated.  Those  in  front  were 
pushed  by  those  behind,  and  those  behind  crowded 
forward  by  newcomers,  pressing,  with  a  brute  disre- 
gard to  gain  a  place  where  they  could  st%  trampling, 
shoving  aside,  adding  their  voice  to  <-he  shout  that 
shook  the  streets.  Men  grabbed  the  men  in  front 
by  the  shoulders,  and  with  a  leap  either  threw  those 
in  front  under  their  feet  or  wedged  a  place  in  the 
solid  mass  of  mad  humanity. 

McGee's  herculean  form  loomed  like  a  gladiator's 
from  the  front  steps.  When  he  had  finished  speak- 
ing and  struck  the  mob  back  with  the  baton  of  a 
policeman,  who  had  fallen,  there  was  a  solid  wave 
backward  of  the  throngs;  but  when  he  turned  to  the 
door  they  were  on  him  again  so  closely  that  he  could 
barely  free  his  arms. 

"Cattle,"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth.  Then 
hf  wheeled  on  them  with  a  shout — "Keep  back — 
fellows!  What  would  you  do?  Will  it  help  your 
families  to  be  shot  down  like  dogs?  Why  do  you 
act  like  cattle  rushing  on  the  shambles?  Don't  you 
know  the  troops  are  coming?  Who  is  that  fellow 
pushing?  Knock  him  down,  somebody?  He's  no 
union  man  I  He's  a  blackguard  making  riot  for 
loot " 

But  he  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  a  tidal  wave. 
The  flood  waters  had  come  through  the  dikes  he 
had  broken  dc-.vn,  and  he  could  no  longer  hold  them 
back.  There  were  screams,  jeers,  laughter,  rallying 
hoots,  with  the  long,  low,  ominous  undertone  like 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  jo, 

McGee  ■•■■"""■  "'"'"eo  in,"  .|,.„„j 

called  McGee.'  ''"'^    '^    """    '^°'"P^"y    promises," 

-h-u,k;--c:;:-£;:'S^';^"ffo- that- Too 

cine  I"  °    *"'^"'  own  medi- 

it 

.      „ ^^'^'I'  assemble  asa'm  In  ffi^ 

,7°' '••••  Rot!"  roared  the  voices 

•  •,;  ■  wll    lose    everything    we    have    now 

goods !     VVe  ve  had  enough  rant  " 
from  ,1,.  hinge,    "  ''  ''"  """  ""  "'  i'"" 

•'     J^hey'll  get  enough  of  that,"  muttered 
Puttn^  h,s  root  on  the  inmost  bar  If 

o..k  door  till  the  timbers  rattled. 


McGee. 
the  iron 
kicking  i 


5o6  THE    NEW    DAWN 

"Give  it  to  'em,  McGeel  Ram  her  inl  Why 
don't  you  fire  her?  ...  " 

McGee's  coat  had  caught  on  an  iron  spiice  as  he 
slipped  down  wedged  between  the  iron  gate  and 
the  oak  doors,  and  the  cloth  ripped  to  his  neck.  His 
hat  was  gone.  His  eyes  were  on  fire.  The  veins 
stood  out  knotted  on  his  neck  like  ropes,  and  blood 
from  the  cut  of  a  stone  hurled  amiss  streaked  one 
side  of  his  face. 

"Look  out  for  the  troops  behind,"  he  warned 
with  one  look  back,  and  he  shook  the  oak  door  with 
all  his  strength. 

The  false  alarm  drew  the  mob  back  for  the  frac- 
tion of  a  second.  In  that  second  the  oak  door 
jarred.  Then  an  opening  the  width  of  a  slit  re- 
vealed a  boy's  face  peering  out. 

"Let  me  in,  Budd?"  Then,  in  a  whisper:  "I 
can  save  the  president,"  and  he  had  thrust  his  foot 
in  the  opening,  and  stretched  one  hand  inside  on  the 
padlocked  chain. 

The  boy  had  opened  the  door.  McGee's  big 
form  was  inside.  A  wild  yell  came  from  the  mob, 
swelling,  multiplying,  rolling  in  waves  through  the 
canyoned  street.  Then  all  was  shut  off,  for  Budd 
had  slammed  the  door,  snacking  lock  and  bolt  be- 
fore anyone  could  jump  over  the  gate. 

It  was  then  that  Ward  and  Saunders  had  noticed 
the  roar  subside  to  a  low  rumble.  McGee  sent  the 
elevator  cage  up  with  a  bounce,  Budd  bounding  on 
the  big  man's  heels  as  he  threw  his  weight  with  a 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  507 

pounding  rap  against  the  lighted  door  of  the  gen- 
eral  offices.     I  he  glass  quivered  under  his  blow 
Other  door,"  cried  the  boy. 
And  the  labor  leader  dashed  into  the  secretary's 
office  with  a  resounding  slam  of  that  door.     It  was 
then  that  Saunders  had  clasped  the  knees  of  the  ores- 
.dent,  who  was  so  intent  on  the  mob  outside  that  he 
d.d  not  hear  the  noise  in  the  office.    Misled  by  the 
light,    McGee    had   plunged   through    the   general 
offices.      No   one    was   there.      Then   he   caught   a 
gl.mpse  of  the  dark  door  ^^■ith  the  felt  dummy     He 
Hung  both  door  and  dummy  wide,  pushing  one  door 
back,  the  other  forward,  and  planting  his  feet  firmly 
to  keep  the  two  doors  open. 

In  the  sudden  glare  two  dark  figures  were  sil- 
houetted  m  the  half  light  of  the  open  window 

The  two  men  in  the  window  suddenly  beheld  a 
form  in  the  open  doorway,  wild-eyed,  with  blood  on 
his  face  and  hands,  clothes  torn  almost  from  his 
body,  and  a  weapon  in  one  hand.  Then  the  thunder 
ot  an  upheavmg  volcano  burst  from  the  street  in 
one  shrill,  singing  scream. 

The  light  had  revealed  the  men  in  the  window  to 
the  mob.  McGee  stood  dazed,  for  a  rifle  shot  had 
npped  the  air,  and  something  snarling  flung  against 
the  labor  leader's  chest,  a  weasel  on  the  breast  of 
an  eagle.  Craft  pinioned  to  Force!  Both  doors 
slammed  shut  with  a  sudden  darkness.  Sn„n^»,c 
I  locked  in  t 


grapple  of  hate. 


other's  arms,  a  death 


Each  had  thought  the  shot  aimed  at  himself 


508 


THi:  m:\v  dawn 


ft 


!i' 


^1     Hi 


whereas  it  was  tired  by  a  fanatic  in  the  mob  at  the 
exact  moment  that  the  light  revealed  the  figures  in 
the  window.  There  was  a  scuffling  through  the 
dark  across  the  carpet.  The  president  started  for- 
ward, but  stumbled.  When  he  regained  his  feet 
two  figures  were  crushing  backward  over  the  win- 
dow sill:  the  labor  delegate  plainly  trying  to  hurl 
free  of  the  secretary,  the  vanquished  secretary  drag- 
ging his  enemy  with  him. 

It  needs  but  a  spark  to  blow  up  a  mine,  but  a 
spark  to  alight  the  conflagration  of  the  Mob;  and 
the  chance  shot  of  the  crack-brained  fanatic  was  that 
spark.  A  detonating  crash,  one  belch  of  death,  a 
sudden  tottering  of  the  great  building,  and  the  live 
flames  leaped  to  mid-heaven  like  a  monster  rocket. 
The  Great  Consolidated  had  been  blown  up.  The 
building  was  on  fire. 

In  the  glare  that  lighted  sky  and  streets,  the  up- 
turned gaze  of  the  terror-frenzied  mob  saw  some- 
thing in  the  likeness  of  two  struggling  men  totter 
above  the  windowsill;  then  there  shot  through  the 
darkness  ....  down  ....  down  ....  down, 
what  struck  the  pavement  ten  stories  below ! 

There  was  a  panic  scattering.  Sky  and  street 
were  wrapped  in  flame.  Fire  gongs  clanged.  No 
one  thought  of  that  other  figure  in  the  window,  no 
one  but  a  child,  who  clung  to  the  man's  arm  in  the 
sooty,  smoky  dark. 

"The  elevators  are  afire,  sir!  Come  up  the  next 
stair.  Mister  Ward — come  quick — there's  a  fire  es- 
cape, sir!" 


THE  CREED  COVFROVTS  ITSELF  ,o. 

Crawl  un.leJrsr.kr'H';^:""'-'!-^  h^"  "P-' 
in  a  hot  breath      Th    K  ■     'P''"''  ''"'^  '"^ked 

j.i-a.„.e::L;  iixttr^;-: 

had  the  Creed  of  rh,.  'if-  .         ^-      ^^'i=" 

stooping  to  a  :I.ea  . L;  Z  Lt  "■""  ^'"^'r" 
of  na^iess  parental  ft:^,^^'^  ^S::;^^^"'^ 
realized  until  afterward  when  h.  1    .  ''" 

man  grasped  the  child  in  his  arms   and  Sh      . 
over  the  flame  cleared  four  stairs  a   a  sfep     nd  fl     ' 

ir:l^r«rfestf""-"^^^^^^'^"-" 

The  iron  railing  led  past  a  window,  where  smoke 
rolled  out  ,n  clouds.     Pushing  from  the  wall,  cTng! 


5IO 


THK    Nl  W    DAWN 


if 


inK  to  the  iron  guard,  Ward  paused  before  the  new 
danger.  Ilamcs  shot  through  the  smoke,  throwing 
his  figure  in  clear  relief  against  the  high  wall.  Some 
one  below  saw  him,  and  there  was  a  roar  of  amaiie- 
mcnt,  followed  by  a  terrible  hush. 

The  mob  that  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces  and 
thrown  his  body  to  the  dogs  of  the  street  but  half 
an  hour  ago— recognized,  not  Ward,  the  president 
of  the  Gren  Consolidated,   who  had  conspired  to 
conquer  the  world  and  master  labor,  but  a  Man,  a 
Man  in  terrible  peril  of  instant  death,  coolly  car- 
rying over  his  shoulder  the  unconscious  form  of  a 
child.     Before  dashing  through  the  flame  that  bil- 
lowed from  this  window  above  the  tire  escape,  they 
saw  him  pause  to  wrap  his  own  coat  round  the  boy 
as  a  shield— then  he  had  thrown  the  boy  face  down 
across  his  left  shoulder,  and,  clinging  to  the  parapet 
of  the  building  with  his  right  hand,   he  bent  and 
crawled  beneath  the  shooting  flames  of  the  wmdow. 
Some  one  in  the  crowd  cried  out  that  the  iron 
railing  of  the  fire  escape  was  red  hot— didn't  peo- 
ple see?— that  was  why  the  man  couldn't  hang  on  to 
it     Who  was  the  man,  anyway?    Anyone  know  who 
this  man  was?    Was  it  McGce?     Who  were  the 
men  that  had  fallen  from  the  window  r.s  the  bomb 
exploded?     Fire  gongs  were  clanging.     Policemen 
beat  the  crowds  back.     All  through  the  Great  Con- 
solidated glass  was  going  off  like  pistol  shots    and 
there  was  a  roar  that  funneled  the  canyon  of  the 
narrow  street  into  a  tornado  of  red  flame. 

Suddenly  the  man  was  seen  again— a  black  speck 


eck 


THI-   CRFFD  CONFRONTS  ITSKI.Fsn 

crawling  agninst  the  parapet— still  holding  the  hoy. 
The  man  paused,  tore  the  coat  from  the  senseless 
form  of  the  boy,  and  flung  it  to  the  street  below— 
It  was  in  lianie.     The  crowd  saw  him  next  wrap- 
ping his  own  vest  round  the  child— then  he  disap- 
peared in  the  dark.— Who  in  all  creation  was  the 
man?     He  was  a  hero,  whoc\cr  he  wa-      .   .  there 
he  was  again  three  floors  below,  down— hanging  to 
the   pa' apet— where  the   explosion   had   blown   the 
iron  steps  away  from  the  wall   ...  a  shout  ...  a 
cheer  ...  a  multitudinous  cry  of  exultation  broke 
from  the  crowds  below  before  they  had  recognized 
the  president. — Women  cried  and  clasped  each  other 
— men  felt  sudden  lumps  in  their  throats  .  .  .  there 
he  hung  to  the  parapet,  while  firemen  were  raising 
the  Ijook  ladders  in  feverish  haste- then  a  falling 
cornice  sent  the  spectators  back  In  a  cloud  of  sparks 
and  smoke  ....  when  they  looked  again  the  man 
was  handing  the  boy's  body  down  to  the  firemen 
strung  on  the  ladder.     When  he  reached  the  ladder 
himself,  the  spectators  went  frantic — they  shouted 
.  .  .  they   tossed  .   .  .  their   caps  .  .  .  they    cried 
"well  done,"  and  clapped  their  hands  ...  but  the 
man  was  seen  to  stumble  on  the  ladder  as  if  he  had 
grown   faint — firemen   were   on   each   side   of  him, 
helping    him    down  ....  the    shout    broke    into 
fierce,    hysterical    exultation  ....  Then    suddenly 
.  .  .   quieted  ....  Some    one    shouted  .  .  .   "By 
the  Lord  .   .  .   it's   Ward  .   .  .   it's  Ward  himself 
.  .   .  it's  W^ard  risked  himself  to  save  the  kid's  life 
...  the  kid  was  the  elevator  boy  .  .  .  McGee's 


.  inK>!scr^ 


SI2 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


nephew."  .  .  .  There  was  a  terrible  silence  .  .  . 
men  and  women  went  emotionally  to  pieces  and  wept 
and  didn't  know  why  ...  At  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
Ward  swayed  and  fell  heavily  in  a  man's  arms.  It 
was  Truesdale  come  up  with  his  motor. 

Policemen  cleared  the  crowds  back  behind  the 
ropes  and  would  have  cleared  a  way  back  through 
the  streets  for  the  car,  but  Ward  was  seen  to  wave 
them  off  as  the  firemen  lifted  him  to  the  big 
limousine.  He  raised  his  head — they  were  waving 
the  ambulance  forward  for  the  boy.  Ward  signaled 
the  firemen  holding  the  boy.  The  spectators  saw 
the  child  laid  in  the  car  beside  the  president.  Where 
was  the  Mob,  many-headed,  riotous,  bloodthirsty, 
that  but  a  moment  before  would  have  torn  him  to 
pieces?  A  way  opened  before  the  car.  The  onlook- 
ers could  see  that  his  face  was  scarred  and  gashed. 
He  held  his  handkerchief  to  a  cut.  Not  a  hand  was 
raised  to  threaten  or  strike  as  the  motor  glided 
through  the  open  way.  But  a  moment  before  the 
Mob  had  been  bent  on  murder.  Now  it  was  no 
longer  a  Mob — it  was  humanity  touched  to  its 
depths. 

As  the  car  wheeled  up  the  park  driveway.  Ward 
turned  heavily  and  looked  back.  There  was  a  lurid 
glare,  but  it  no  longer  seemed  incense  from  a  World 
of  Work  to  a  God  of  Traffic.  It  was  a  holocaust 
to  the  Spirit  of  the  Mob. 

"It  looked  as  if  furies  were  unchained  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two  there,  Truesdale,"  said  Ward,  holding 
the  boy  carefully. 


THE  CREED  CONFRONTS  ITSELF  513 

noIZ'^"^"'  '°';\S^T''^  f'^^k.  What  he  saw  was 
no  the  v.s,on  of  Labor  and  Capital  in  heroic  con- 
test  of  Strength  .n  the  Armageddon  of  McGee's 
dreams  It  was  the  hght  of  a  conflagration  glitter- 
-ng  on  the  bayonets  and  helmets  of  the  State  troops 

1  say,  I  rue,  m  the  interest  of  „f 

(he  almost  said  humanity)  "common  sense,'  would 
you  mmd  gomg  back  and  telling  those  fool  troops 
not  to  fire  on  the  ....  crowd?" 

Labor  and  Capital  had  come  to  the  long-threat- 

thetr''  ;■  ^"'  ''"^  '"*  ^'™P^=  was-bayonets, 
the  la  t  sounds-a  measured  tramp,  a  roll  of  drums, 

emelVf  '°  T''  ^^^  '^^"  °"  ^'--''ack  had 
emerged  from  chaos  to  restore  order  and  levy 
tnbute  for  h,s  serv.ces.  Ward  sighed  heavily  and 
sank  down  m  his  own  thoughts. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 


THE   ARMAGEDDON 


He  sat  down  on  the  breakwater  beam  above  her, 
throwing  his  hat  to  the  pier. 

"Good! — Yju  are  looliing  better!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Is  it  fresh  air  or  fame?  I  hear  about  y^ar  pictures 
of  rural  life  everywnere.  I  saw  some  in  a  window 
on  Fifth  Avenue;  but,  do  you  know,  when  I  went  in 
to  buy  them,  they  bad  been  sold  weeks  before?" 

She  had  been  surreptitiously  shoving  her  sketch 
book  under  a  pillow. 

"I  didn't  know,"  she  answered  absently.  "You 
must  remember  I  am  out  of  the  world.  There  are 
neither  critics  nor  price  lists  here!  We  do  things 
here  from  the  joy  of  living.  Perhaps  it's  neither 
fresh  air  nor  fame.  Perhaps  it  is  happiness!  But 
you — you  have  grown  very — grave  in  these  market- 
place battles  of  yours.  I  hear  you  are  coming  out 
conqueror.     Conquerors  should  be  jubilant " 

"When  they  haven't  sacrificed  too  much  for  vic- 
tory," he  interposed. 

They  did   not  speak   for  a   moment.     She   felt, 
rather  than  saw,  the  shadow  on  his  face.     It  was 
tinged,  not  with  regret,  but  renunciation.    An  invisi- 
ble   but    impassable    barrier   seemed    suddenly    be- 
S14 


THE   ARMAGEDDON  j,^ 

tween  them.  All  that  she  had  hoped  of  him  he  had 
more  than  proved;  and  yet  she  felt  the  reserved 
force  of  the  man,  the  hidden  mof  -es  of  character, 
to  be  far  greater  than  what  she  knew.  It  gave  a 
sense  of  masterful  power,  of  quick,  sharp  decision, 
of  straightforward,  unswerving  purpose.     She  could 

wS  J'T  ^''''  '*"'  •"'"  ^^^  '^'  P'^ymate  of  her 
childhood  days,  whose  will  she  dominated  and 
swayed  to  lightest  fancies.  A  new  strength  seemed 
to  have  come  out  of  the  battle  that  had  hardened 
and  stiffened  his  manhood.  She  was  half  afraid  of 
this  new  force  with  its  unknown  depths,  and  yet  she 
was  perfectly  conscious  that,  if  life  accomplished 
nothing  more,  ,t  had  been  worth  while  for  just  this- 
the  exquisite  happiness  of  having  been  known,  and 
loved  and  understood  by  him.  He  drew  a  long 
breath,  half  laugh,  half  sigh. 

"Well,  whatever  comes,  Madeline,  it's  good  for  a 
person  to  find  a  niche,  and  fill  it,  and  fit  it!     You 
have  found  yours.     Your  success  proves  that!     I 
suppose  a  person  who  aims   high   must  have  mo- 
ments  when   distrust  of  those   aims   comes;   when 
despair  must  be  as  deep  in  the  other  direction !     It's 
all  right  for  us  halfway-ups,  sitting  on  the  fence,  to 
sit  jeering  when  the  aim  drops,  cheering  when  the 
aim  goes  up;  but  I  dare  say  we  don't  know  anything 
about  those  times  when  you  high-fliers  look  plumb 
down  where  you  might  drop  if  you  happened  to 
lose  courage!     It's  all  right  to  preach  pretty  max- 
ims about  hard  work,  and  perseverance,  and  time 
opening  the  way!     There  are  thousands  that  have 


5i6 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


been  practicing  that  line  of  virtues  all  their  lives  just 
to  find  themselves  wornout  old  stagers  stamped  fail- 
ure at  the  end !  How  is  a  person  to  know  whether 
he  has  the  stuff  in  him  till  he  tries?  And  you've  got 
to  take  big  risks  when  you  try!  Those  who  aim 
high  have  to  fly  unhandicapped,  turn  their  backs 
on  the  past  for  good  and  all,  sacrifice  everything 
without  being  dead  sure  they  can  win  anything!  We 
marketplace  fellows  get  a  lien  on  the  future  before 
we  give  out  our  money,  take  collateral  securities  be- 
fore we  stake  the  venture;  but  you  artist  people 
haven't  any  backing  but  your  own  courage !  If  your 
inspiration  turns  Out  to  have  been  inflation — why— 
you've  wasted  life  without  anything  to  show  for  it 
but  the  spectacle  of  courage  making  a  shy  at  the 
moon!     Most  of  us  haven't  the  grit  for  that  sort  of 

thing " 

Madeline  laughed. 

"And  when  we  succeed  we  are  so  far  below  what 
we  aimed  that  to  us  it's  failure !    And  when  we  fail 

we've  at  least  had  the  zest  of  trying " 

"Yes,  I  know,  what  men  call  'the  fun  of  the 
fight'  whether  you  win  or  lose;  but  do  you  know  I 
didn't  like  to  think  about  your  losing?  1  was  so 
jealous  of  your  not  succeeding  enough  to  justify  the 
attempt  that  I  used  to  doubt  the  wisdon-  of  a  woman 
trying  anything  outside  the  old  lines!  I  think  that's 
at  the  bottom  of  half  men's  jealousy  toward  wom- 
an's efforts.  We  don't  mind  seeing  a  man  making 
a  donkey  of  himself  by  thinking  he  is  a  roaring  lion 
when  he  is  only  a  braying  jackass;  but  wt  do  hate 


THE   ARMAGEDDON  jiy 

to  see  a  woman  play  that  part!  I  knew  you  could 
not  play  the  poseur  at  art— that's  one  of  the  things 
gave  me  hope— you  were  so  dashed  unconscious  of 
your  aims  being  high  that  you  just  nigged  along  at 
work;  out,  now  that  you  have  disproved  my  fears 
you'il  forgive  the  confession  that  I  used  to  be  deadly 
afraid  all  your  youth  would  slip  past  in  useless  ef- 
fort; that  you'd  only  gather  apples  of  ashes!" 

"And  do  you  think  that  any  toiler  ever  lived  with- 
out  having  the  same  fear  at  times?"  she  asked 
^    "But  you  were  right!     I  was  wrong/'  he  went  on. 
1  knew  that  in  my  sou!  of  souls  all  along;  but  I 
knew  It  better  when  I  saw  the  people  on  Fifth  Ave- 
nue looking  at  your  pictures.     Why,  one  old  demi- 
rep, of  a  sewer  digger  pulled  up  before  the  win- 
dow grinning  with   glee.      'Purty   near   hear   them 
waters   tinklin'    in   that   picture,'    he   said.      'Purty 
near  fancy  you  woz  a  boy  back  fishin'  on  the  farm 
creek,  eh?'     I  felt  as  if  your  picture  had  given  that 
old  soul  a  sun  bath,  Madeline !     I  could  have  shaken 
the  old  beggar  by  the  hand.     I  began  to  see  how 
your  gifts  belonged  to  the  whole  world,  not  to  me 

;_  ■   ■_ well  ?"      Truesdale    paused 

"while  one  had  a  perfect  right  to  love  you,  it  was 

quite  another  thing  to  come  asking "and 

Truesdale  broke  off  abruptly. 

And  Madeline  Connor's  world  suddenly  began  to 
whirl.  She  looked  up  to  see  his  face  white  with  com- 
pressed emotion.  What  was  it  brought  the  question 
to  her  lips? 

"Why  did  you  come?"  she  said. 


St8 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


Truesdale  knotted  his  hands  very  tight  round  one 
knee.  That  soft  tremulo  in  her  voice  like  the  low, 
golden  notes  of  a  trill — half  blending  sound  and  si- 
lence, sense  and  soul — sent  a  sudden,  electric  thrill 
all  round  Truesdale's  scalp,  and  down  his  back,  and 
out  to  his  finger  tips.  It  was  a  sense  of  intoxication 
to  the  music  of  beauty  that  one  sometimes  feels 
when  orchestral  melody  fades  to  a  throbbing  silence. 
It  is  the  sort  of  music  one  can  hear  over  and  over 
in  imagination.  Truesdale  tried  to  persuade  him- 
self that  it  was  the  tone  of  her  voice  which  brought 
that  unwarned  thrill. 

She  had  turned  to  him  with  her  face  resting  on 
her  hand,  her  elbow  on  the  breakwater  beam. 
Truesdale  looked  past  her  hair,  not  trusting  his  eyes 
from  the  steamer  ploughing  the  river;  but  you  can- 
not very  well  gaze  past  an  object  on  a  level  with 
your  eyes  without  being  conscious  of  its  presence, 
of  its  form,  of  its  color,  particularly  if  that  color 
consists  of  hair  gold-shot  in  sunlight,  and  eyes  with 
pupils  dilated  almost  to  the  edge  of  the  iris,  and 
hectic  spots  flushing  and  waning  to  each  breath. 
Truesdale  was  conscious  that  the  eyes  were  waiting 
for  him  to  answer  the  question,  which  was  still 
tingling  its  awkward  iteration — "Why  did  you 
come?" 

"I've  been  asking  myself  that  question  all  the  way 
down,"  he  said.  "When  I  took  the  train  .... 
when  I  took  the  train 

"Yes?"  said  Madeline. 

"I  imagined  that  I  was  coming  to  let  you  know 


THE   ARMAGEDDON  5,9 

necklace,  if  you  needed  to  sell  it ." 

"Who  did  you  say  he  was,  True?" 

Tr'uSe    "^""^   *"''   "'*""'   ""'"*'°"'='''"   an'wered 

"When  you  took  the  train,  you  thought  you  were 

coming  about  the  rubies?" 

"But  when  I  reached  the  stage.  I  made  up  my 

TJuh'  '"  »^f' ^f  bfcoming  famous  might  not  wish 
to  sell  her  necklace?" 

Madeline's  look  never  left  his  face.  What  did 
he  see?  What  was  she  studying?  What  was  she 
rymg  to  dec,de?_SiIence  now,  and  silence  forever  I 

K  .;•  TV/  ^°'  "  P'°"'^  ""'"'"^  '°  ^°'""=  °"t  from 
behind  the  barriers  of  its  reserve.     Without— says 
Scripture-are  dogs,  and  the  Kingdom  is  safest  in 
our  hearts      Should  she  risk  the  leap  to  bring  that 
other  into  her  kingdom?    For  an  instant  her  whole 
existence  seemed  to  hang  at  poise  like  a  climber 
daring  a  leap  across  the  abyss  to  reach  new  heights 
Strange   how,    at  that   moment,    sight   and   sound 
etched  themselves  on  memory  forever:    the  quiet 
nuns  pacing  the  convent  garden  up  on  the  hillside, 
reading  their  sa.,ed  books,  the  quiet  nuns  of  the 
cloistered  existence,  without  risk,  without  fear,  gra- 
cious  of  goodness,  ignorant  of  life  as  children  1    The 
voice  of  the  river,  swift  flowing,  hastening  to  the 
u     ,,     ^'°"^'  °^  *^  children  from  the  convent 
school  I     The  white-winged,  quivering  sails  where 
Jishermen   were   carrying  returns  from  the  year's 
catch  back  to  some  hamlet  home  I    Everything  find- 


j30 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


ing  its  aim,  hastening  to  that  end;  and  her  own  life 
at  poise  I  She  knew  life  would  never  be  just  the 
same  to  her  after  that  instant.  She  knew  the  glory 
of  life  would  either  become  ineffably  brighter,  or 
fade  to  the  light  of  common  day.  And  then,  be- 
fore she  knew  it,  her  voice  was  saying  in  a  low, 
timid  tone  that  she  scarcely  recognized  as  her  own: 

"And  tho'  she  might  not  wish  to  sell  the  necklace, 
you  came  on — True?" 

And  the  manner  of  her  saying  it  somehow  con- 
veyed to  him  that  she  was  inexpressibly  glad  he  had 
come. 

Truesdale  got  hold  of  himself  again. 

"I  thought  that  I'd  like  to  see  you  before  you 
went  back  to  the  world,  you  know!  You  used  to 
belong  to  us  all!     Now,  you  belong  to  the  world 


"To  the  world,"  repeated  Madeline. 

"And  soon  a  chorus  of  people  will  be  singing  the 
same  thing — what  you  have  done  for  them!  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  what  you  had  done  for  me  before 
the  tune  got  old  to  your  ears,  Madeline?" 

He  was  watching  the  long  trail  of  lace  fret  left 
by  the  river  steamer,  and  such  a  stillness  of  sun- 
bathed glory  lay  on  the  sleeping  hills  as  lighted  the 
world  on  that  first  dawn  of  day. 

"You  will  help  hundreds  just  as  you  have  helped 
me,"  he  declared.  "I  don't  suppose  I  was  either 
better  or  worse  than  other  men  when  I  came  back 
from  Europe  to  begin  life !  It's  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
Madeline :  get  happiness,  and  Devil  take  the  hinder- 


THE   ARMAGEDDON  52, 

most!  It's  the  false  god  of  the  times:  never  mind 
the  grapes;  press  out  the  wine,  tho'  the  wine  be 
blood;  it  may  not  be  comfortable  for  the  grape; 
all  the  worse  for  the  grape;  that's  what  grapes  arc 
for!  Get  Happiness!  Get  Wealth  that  conduces 
to  Happiness  1  Get  Dividends  that  make  Wealth ! 
Get  big  returns  that  make  Dividends!  Get  'em, 
tho'  you  put  the  public  in  the  wine  press,  and  the 
laborer,  and  the  buyer,  and  the  seller,  and  the  in- 
vestor! Get  'em  fair  or  square,  crooked  or  clean! 
The  Only  Good  is  Success— the  Only  Evil  Failure ! 
Put  your  scruples  in  your  pocket  along  with  the 

profits   and get  ...  .  there!     That  was 

lire!     I  was  so  dead  sure  that  the  good  were  only 
good  because  it  made  them  happier  to  be  good  than 
bad,  so  dead  sure  that  the  good  were  only  good  as 
a  sort  of  mollycoddle  to  their  own  failure— that  the 
word  'Good*  did  not  not  mean  much  for  me,  Made- 
line!    You  remember  that  first  day  in  the  studio? 
You  could  have  had  me  for  the  lifting  of  your  hand, 
and  you  knew  it;  and  you  didn't  lift  your  hand;  and 
I  thought  that  I  had  the  most  of  things  that  would 
mean  Happiness  for  a  woman !    At  first  I  thought 
there  was  some  other  man !     Then  I  found  there 
wasn't;  and  I'm  afraid  that  I  cussed  your  art  pretty 
soundly!     I  hadn't  any  patience  with  your  dreams 
and  ideals;  but  I  couldn't  get  away  from  the  memory 
of  you  and  what  you  stood  for!     I  couldn't  make 
you  out.     I  only  knew  that  you  stood  for  something 
the  very  opposite  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Age;  that  you 
didn't  care  a  cuss  for  Self;  and  that  you  weren't 


522 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


*^ 


piously  resigned  to  enemies  too  strong  for  you  I  You 
didn't  submit  to  wrong  and  call  it  resignation  to 
Godl  You  wouldn't  kowtow  to  the  Devil,  and  side 
with  the  winner  to  save  your  own  skin!  I  knew  all 
this,  and  yet  I  had  scarcely  known  of  you  for  three 
years  I     I  was  right,  wasn't  I?" 

Madeline  listened,  waiting. 

"I  knew  when  I  bucked  against  the  Great  Con- 
solidated the  world  would  call  me  a  fool!  I  was 
risking  a  certain  fortune  for  pretty  nearly  certain 
ruin!  I  was  risking  all  chance  of  winning  you! 
And  yet,  somehow — I  can't  explain  it — when  I 
thought  of  you,  I  couldn't  do  anything  else  than  what 
I  have  done!  You  made  me  walk  up  to  the 
scratch,  and  do  what  was  right,  o-  try  to  find  out 
what  was  right  by  bumping  facts  into  myself!  The 
thoughts  of  you  somehow  made  me  understand  that 
life  won't  pan  out  unless  it's  founded  on  something 
deeper  than  Self!" 

Madeline  sat  silent,  thinking,  listening,  entranced 
in  reverie.  Then  his  life  in  the  thick  of  battle  had 
pulsed  to  the  rhythm  of  her  own.  His  help  in  her 
life  had  been  an  echo  of  her  help  in  his. 

"Is  that  all?"  she  asked  presently.  And  again 
that  low,  mellow  tremor,  blending  sound  and  si- 
lence, sense  and  soul,  throbbed  like  chords  echoing 
back  the  music  of  another  soul. 

"All?"  he  repeated.  "Isn't  it  enough?  Isn't  it 
about  the  whole  difference  between  a  hog  and  a  mor- 
tal, the  Great-Blond-Beast  and  a  man?  That's  what 
I  meant  when  I  said  you  gave  my  life  Purpose! 


THE   ARMAGEDDON  523 

That'i  what  I  mean  when  I  lay  you  will  give  many 
lives  Purpoie;  that  I  must  not  put  myself  between 
you  and  that  end;  that  your  life  must  not  be  di- 
verted  from  using  your  gifts " 

But  Madeline  stopped  him  with  an  impatient 
gesture. 

"Do  you  think  that  art  is  God's  greatest  gift  in 
life?  she  asked,  with  all  the  love,  all  the  yearnings, 
all  the  beauty  of  her  dreams,  palpitating  in  the  low, 
mellow  tones  like  the  throb  of  light  to  the  sun. 

"Madeline,"  he  answered  hurriedly,  "i:  you  plead 
agamst  your  art  to  me,  I  am  lost!" 

".iffainst  my  art?"  she  repeated,  looking  up  in  his 
face.       I  am  pleading  for  it!     Do  you  know  why 

my  art  has  succeeded?    Because  you have 

given  it  Purpose  I  Art  is  not  an  end.  True!  It  is 
only  a  means  «.o  an  end,  like  the  language  little  chil- 
dren learn  so  that  they  may  express  the  spirit  by 
and  by  I  I  thought  there  was  a  higher  Purpose  in 
life  than  art.  True !— Something  beautiful  as  the 
Love  of  God,  tender  as  the  Love  of  Christ  I" 

"Madeline,"  he  answered  quickly,  "can  I  be 
strong  against  this?  Do  you  realize  what  this 
means,  dear?    Do  you  know  what  love  is?" 

She  spoke  slowly  with  breaks  of  sheer  happiness 
through  her  voice  in  little  thrills  that  would  not  be 
stilled,  as  though  each  word  were  a  note  of  that 
golden  music  flowing  out  to  an  eternal  sea,  throb- 
bing to  the  rhythm  of  a  Universal  Love. 

"Do  I  know what Love 

is?    You  have  taught me,"  she  said. 


5«4 


THE   NEW    DAWN 


The  flute  tremor  of  tone,  the  warmth  of  her 
breath  across  his  hand,  the  light  that  had  come  over 
her  face  in  a  transfiguration — swept  him  from  all 
moorings  of  time  and  space  b>  (  i,  the  bounds  of 
common  moods.  He  could  noi  speak.  He  could 
ii.^»  :Iiink.  Life  seemed  to  have  broken  in  an  efful- 
gence of  glory  that  overwhelmed  the  senses,  that 
snapped  the  bonds  of  humanity,  that  gave  him  the 
Spirit  of  God  without  measure.  He  had  no  desire 
for  Time  to  move  on.  Time  was  Now  I  He  lost 
all  consciousness  of  Where  he  was.  Who  he  was. 
What  he  was.  He  knew  only  a  Presence,  the  Pres- 
ence of  that  Universe  Love  underlying  all  Life. 
Life  was  Love !    And  Love  was  God  I 

"Why  does  my  work  succeed  now?"  she  was  ask- 
ing. "Before  I  dreamed  a  dream  and  painted 
dreams;  but  there  came  one  whose  love  put  my 
dream  to  shame;  whose  life  was  the  best  picture 
of  all;  who  never  sought  my  sympathy;  who  never 
took  me  at  my  weakest  point;  who  never  talked 
goodness,  but  lived  it;  who  risked  all  for  the  sake 
of  right  without  thought  of  reward;  who  helped  me 
without  letting  me  know  that  I  was  being  helped! 
Without  any  boasting  or  fine-spoken  words,  True, 
this  man  went  into  the  thick  of  the  fight,  and  he 
lived  the  dream  that  I  had  tried  to  paint  t  Oh,  I 
think  God  never  showed  me  anything  better  than 
that,  True !  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  could  have 
known  that  God  was  Love,  if  I  had  not  known  that 
man,  True!  When  life  seemed  nothing  but  a  wild 
beast  fight,  slimed  with  the  hypocrisy  called  civiliza- 


THIi    ARM,\(j1:DD()\  52J 

tion,  when  justice  see.ncil  a  farce,  and  love  a  bait  for 
lust,  and  God  asleep,  this  man  came  to  me  conceal- 
ing his  help,  with  a  love  that  was  silent  as  the  I.ove 
of  God,  tender  as  the  I.ove  of  Christ!  Could  I  do 
anythinij  but  paint  hcautiful  pictiiies  when  I  saw  all 
life  through  the  light  of  his  love;  when  my  heart 
sang  a  gloria  to  God  all  day  for  this  gift  of  gifts- 
when  every  thought  I  thought  was  his  and  every  joy 
I  knew  went  out  to  him?  I  must  not  throw  my 
gifts  away?"  she  laughed,  low,  tremulous,  joyous 
as  the  thrill  of  bird  song.  "And  my  greatest  gift  of 
all  IS  the  gift  this  man  is  going  to  throw  away  for 
the  sake  of  my  art?    Oh — i'rue?" 

He  could  not  answer.  1  le  remembered  how  he 
had  watched  the  white  fret  of  the  steamer  trail  fade 
to  silver  on  the  river.  Then  life  seemed  to  break 
the  bounds  of  earth,  of  common  moods,  of  common 
words.  No  words  that  lips  frame  could  express 
that  moment  when  all  life,  all  the  lives  that  had 
preceded  his  life,  all  the  universe,  all  the  ends  of 
being  suddenly  merged  into  the  transfi^aration  of 
this  Love.  It  was  the  acme  of  all  he  had  fought  for, 
all  he  had  not  dared  to  hope,  all  he  had  ever  read 
or  dreamed  of  men's  visions  transporting  beyond 
the  bounds  of  time  and  space.  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
caught  the  skirts  of  L'ternity,  of  Immortality!  He 
could  defy  Death !  Love  was  deathless,  and  love 
was  his,  transfiguring  life  with  the  Spirit  of  God. 
There  was  no  past,  no  present,  no  future— only 
Love,  eternal,  without  beginning  and  without  end. 
God  wa'.  Love.    This  was  Life,  Life  unquenchable  I 


S»6 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


II 


In  Love  had  they  found  the  Way,  and  the  Truth, 
and  the  Life. 

And  then,  in  a  whisper,  "Oh,  Madeline,  can  we 
live  this  every  common  day?     Isn't  it  a  dream? 


And  then,  low,  tremulous,  joyous  with  little  trills 
and  breaks  of  sheer  happiness  .  .  .  "No  more 
common  days.  True :  not  a  dream  ....  an  awak- 
ening!" 

"Can  we  keep  it  this  way  always,  always?" 

And  from  her,  " beautiful  as  the  Love 

of  God,  tender  as  the  Love  of  Christ!" 

And  then,  words  breaking  from  his  own  lips,  that 
he  had  thought  no  man  had  ever  uttered.  And  then 
the  silence  too  full  of  happiness  for  any  words  that 
lips  could  frame. 

And  then,  her  breath  across  his  hand  whispering 
.  .  .  "Do  you  suppose  they  can  see  us  from  the 
convent  windows?" 

Truesdale  glanced  round  with  a  jerk. 

"No,"  he  said;  "and,  if  they  did,  it  would  empty 
their  convent  walls." 

"Oh,  True,"  and  she  was  laughing,  but  he  could 
no  more  have  touched  her  hand  in  his  present  mood, 
or  drawn  her  face  to  his,  than  he  could  have  pro- 
faned a  temple. 

The  courier  running  down  from  the  convent  to 
the  breakwater  saw  nothing  but  two  people  idly 
watching  the  white  sails  dip  to  the  tide.  The  man 
doffed  his  cap  and  handed  Madeline  a  telegram  that 
had  come  in  one  day  late  on  the  noon  stage.    She 


THE   ARMAGEDDON 


527 


opened  it,  unsuspecting;  for  messages  dail/  came 
about  her  pictures.  Then  she  sprang  up  with  a 
low  cry,  handing  the  yellow  paper  to  Truesdale.  To 
him  its  meaning  was  deadly  clear. 

"Mrs.  JFard  on  the  outgoing  freighter  Labra- 
dor. Spare  no  expense  to  intercept  steamer.  Presi- 
dent JFard  suddenly  ill." 

It  was  signed  by  Ward's  physician. 

Truesdale  and  Madeline  did  not  speak  what  each 
knew  the  other  thought;  and,  if  souls  are  damned 
for  lack  of  silence,  no  word  of  reproach  passed  the 
lips  of  these  two. 

"They  must  have  come  by  the  New  York  express, 
the  very  night  I  came,  by  Poston,"  said  Truesdale. 

"They?"  she  questioned. 

"And  President  Ward  has  sent  that  himself," 
added  Truesdale,  and  he  told  her  of  that  last  even- 
ing at  the  Ward  home. 

"Oh,  let  us  do  something!  Let  us  act  at  once!" 
she  urged. 

"When  does  the  freighter  Labrador  pass  here?" 
asked  Truesdale,  turning  to  the  courier. 

"She  don'  stop  here !  It  was  her  dat  pass  here 
two  hour  ago !" 

"Then  it  was  the  Labrador  that  passed  as  we 
were  watching?" 

"Oui,  madem'selle!" 

They  walked  up  the  pier  too  stunned  for  words. 


528 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


"Is  there  no  telegraph  on  this  side  of  the  river?" 
demanded  Truesdalc  desperately. 

The  habitant  shook  his  head. 

"How  long  would  it  take  us  to  ride  to  the  nearest 
telegraph?" 

The  habitant  shrugged  hif  shoulders. 

"Six  hour,  mebbe — seven !  Mebbe  horse  go  lame 
—eight  I" 

"To  think,"  said  Madeline,  "to  think  that  we 
have  been  standing  at  the  very  gates  of  Heaven 
while  she "  but  she  could  not  finish. 

They  were  opposite  the  chapel.  Instinctively  his 
eyes  questioned  hers. 

"Yes,  let  me  go  in alone,"  she  said. 

She  did  not  sob  and  cry  out  after  the  passion  of 
her  kind.  She  knelt  at  the  altar  wordless,  wringing 
her  hands.  Suddenly  her  grief  was  aware  of  some 
one  kneeling  beside  her  and  a  hand  closed  over  hers. 
It  was  Truesdale. 

Kneeling  so,  trembling,  her  grief  loosened  and 
spent  itself  in  a  storm  of  tears. 

"I  have  not  prayed  since  I  was  a  boy,"  he  was 
saying,  "but  I  couldn't  help  following  you  in!  I 
never  felt  God  so  near!  I  couldn't  help  praying 
that  our  love  might  be  kept  as  beautiful  and  pure  as 
the  Love  of  God " 

"And  as  tender  and  human  as  the  Love  of 
Christ,"  she  added  passionately. 

And  the  light  of  a  sudden  comprehension  was 
about  them  in  a  flame.  She  did  not  withdraw  her 
hand.     They  gazed  in  each  other's  souls  with  an 


THE  ARMAGEDDON 


529 


uplift  of  splendor  that  would  raise  anJ  illumine  their 
lives  forever.  Then  in  the  dim  light  of  the  chapel, 
awed  as  in  an  Immortal  Presence,  he  took  her  n 

his  arms and  their  lips  met. 

Drawing  her  hand  through  his  arm,  he  led  ner 
out  to  the  sunlight. 

They  were  married  that  night  at  the  Protestant 
Rectory,  and  entered  the  stage  to  return  to  the  city 
just  as  the  vespertine  chimes  of  the  Catholic  Chapel 
began  swinging  and  swelling  through  the  valley  in 
runs,  and  rings,  and  Cii  lences  that  echoed  to  the 
purpling  hills,  to  the  silver  river,  to  the  tide  of  the 
far  sea. 

What  those  vespertine  chimes  sang  only  Made- 
line and  Truesdale  knew.  There  were  no  other  pas- 
sengers, and,  as  the  stage  drew  up  the  hill,  they 
could  hear  the  chant,  faint  and  far,  of  the  nuns 
praising  God.  Then  the  stage  rolled  through  the 
gap,  down  to  the  shadow  of  another  valley.  The 
night  chill  of  frost  and  dark  closed  in  round  them. 
She  raised  her  face  with  some  whisper,  throwing  hat 
and  veil  and  the  rug  he  h,'d  placed  for  her  to  the 
empty  seat  across  the  pa i, age.  The  lift',  tallow 
candle  below  the  roof  under  the  driver's  seat  flick- 
ered out  with  a  jolt.  He  drew  her  into  his  arms, 
and  she  fell  asleep  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
wakening  now  and  then  to  ask  where  she  was,  and 
uttering  little  snatches  of  words,  which  made  poor 
Truesdale  thank  Heaven  for  the  g'ft  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


THE  GREAT  FACT  OF  ALL  CREEDS 


Ward  had  a  persistent  fancy  all  night  long  after 
sending  his  valet  upstairs  with  the  note  for  Mrs. 
Ward  that  he  heard  her  footsteps  gliding  through 
the  house  coming  to  him.  Again  and  again  an  im- 
pulse possessed  him  to  go  to  her,  but  he  was  re- 
strained by  the  consciousness  that  these  very  mas- 
terful impulses  of  all  their  wedded  life  had  been 
the  yoke  that  had  galled  her  into  an  assertion  of 
her  own  identity.  He  had  never  thought  of  it  be- 
fore, but  he  knew  now  that  never  for  the  fraction 
of  an  instant  from  their  wedding  day  had  he  con- 
sidered her  will,  her  desires,  her  happiness.  He 
had  not  even  permitted  her  to  join  in  his  plans.  He 
had  excluded  her  from  them,  and  shut  '  ^r  out  from 
his  own  life  hopes.  He  had  regardec.  her  exactly 
as  he  had  regarded  his  yacht,  or  his  house — a 
tangible  asset  combining  the  qualities  of  value, 
rarity,  use,  and  beauty.  If  she  had  been  another 
type  of  woman  content  to  play  a  semi-inanimate 
part  among  the  rest  of  the  house  furnishings,  she 
might  have  filled  all  Ward's  expectations  of  a  wife; 
but  it  was  precisely  because  she  was  not  that  type 
of  woman  that  Ward  had  chosen  her  for  his  wife. 
530 


GREAT  FACT  OF  ALL  CREEDS  J31 

He  had  wanted  a  possession  of  distinguished  person- 
ality, of  individual  character,  of  sufficient  originality 
to  stand  out  from  the  common  herd.  He  had  won 
it  in  his  wife,  and,  by  excluding  her  from  his  life, 
had  turned  all  the  force  of  that  individuality  in  on 
itself,  with  the  result  that  her  egoism  had  become 
as  blindly  dominant  as  his  own.  He  saw  that  now 
when  it  was  too  late. 

Once,  toward  midnight,  he  thought  that  he  heard 
her  door  open,  and  he  rose  from  his  chair  to  meet 
her  halfway,  but  somewhere  else  in  the  dim-lighted 
halls  another  door  closed,  and  utter  silence  again 
fell  over  the  big  house.    Then  the  footfalls  through 
the  silent  halls  seemed  to  become  a  ghost  of  memory 
eliding  through  the  past.     All  the  fleet,  forgotten 
years  came  back  before  him,  kaleidoscopic,  unspeak- 
ing,  unaccusing,   irrefutable  witnesses;  memory   of 
that  breaking  so  violently  from  the  old  life  of  shift- 
less poverty,  of  his  wife  riding  through  the  woods 
as  a  little  girl  planning  her  conquests,  of  the  long, 
hard  years  toiling  in  the  dark  unknown,  of  the  first, 
upward  steps  half  doubtfully,  of  the  first,  glorious 
intoxication  of  Success,  of  the  widening  outlook  on 
life  each  upward  step  gave  him,  of  how  he  had 
practically  bought  his  wife  to  save  her  father,  of  the 
final  touching  on  that  pinnacle  of  an  almost  Supreme 
Power,  when  the  whole  world  seemed  to  lie  below 
his  feet,  and  then  the  riots  like  an  earthquake  or 
conflagration   overwhelming   his   kingdom  1      What 
was   the   difference  between   the   anarchy  of  those 
riots  and  the  revolt  of  his  wife?    The  thoughts  be- 


532 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


M 


came  unendurable  to  Ward.  "We  have  done  the 
same  thing  in  different  ways,  she  and  I,"  he  thnu'rht. 
"We  have  defied  everything  for  Self  I  We''.c  mnde 
the  same  mistake  1  We  must  pull  out  of  this  .... 
out  of  this,"  he  told  himself,  passing  the  dim  halls, 
drawn  by  an  overmastering  impulse  up  the  stairs  to 
the  landing  toward  his  wife's  room.  He  wanted  to 
tell  her  frankly  how  they  had  both  made  the  same 
mistake,  and  then,  perhaps,  ....  He  did  not  fin- 
ish the  thought,  but  in  his  heart  half  hoped  they 
might  both  agree  to  begin  life  again. 

There  was  no  response  to  his  light  rap  on  the 
door  of  his  wife's  room.  He  turned  the  handle  and 
stepped  in,  to  find  the  candles  still  burning  above  the 
writing  desk,  the  room  empty,  the  little  steamer 
trunk  drawn  out  from  the  wardrobe  and  apparently 
packed.  Something  that  Ward  had  never  known 
before  suddenly  gripped  and  paralyzed  his  powers — 
a  great  fear.  As  if  by  instinct,  he  locked  the  door 
to  shut  the  world's  prying  out.  Then  he  caught 
sight  of  the  note  above  the  writing  desk. 

"I'll  save  her  yet,  in  spite  of  herself,"  he  said, 
crunching  the  paper  in  his  hand;  and  he  gathered 
up  all  the  telltale  jewels  left  piled  on  the  desk,  tossed 
the  bed  as  if  it  had  been  slept  in,  locked  the  door 
to  the  maid's  room,  blew  out  the  candles,  and,  going 
downstairs,  telephoned  a  morning  paper  that  "Mrs. 
Ward  had  left  the  city  for  a  short  visit." 

When  the  maid  inquired  in  the  morning  "How 
long  Mrs.  Ward  would  be  away,"  Ward's  vnlet 
conveyed  the  information  that  the  carter,  who  had 


GREAT  FACT  OF  ALL  CREEDS  J33 

come  for  the  trunk,  was  to  express  it  to  Canada- 
and  the  servants  somehow  received  instructions, 
without  being  told,  to  tell  all  inquirers  that  Mrs. 
Ward  had  gone  to  visit  Miss  Connor  on  the  St 
Lavyrcncc.  Thus  he  ;vould  save  her  from  herself 
to  the  end. 

Even  when  the  coachman  announced  smilinelv 
that  Mr^Dorval  HebJen  had  also  gone  to  Canada, 
It  was  offset  by  the  valet's  news  that  the  yacht  was 
to  be  put  m  commission  for  the  president  to  join 
his  wife  at  some  northern  port  on  the  way  to  Eu- 
rope.  If  some  in  the  servants'  hall  smiled  know- 
ingly, their  smiles  were  turned  to  speculation  on 
learmng  that  the  valet  had  been  sent  to  Budd  Mc- 
Oce  in  the  hospital  for  the  exact  address  of  Miss 
Connor  in  Quebec.  That  day,  when  the  great  spe- 
oalist  came  to  consult  with  the  doctors  about  the 
president's  symptoms,  the  patient  was  found  speak- 
ing over  the  long-distance  telephone  with  some  tele- 
graph office  in  Quebec. 

/''^  stock  lists  exhibited  a  distinct  flurry  in  the 
U  ard  securities  that  day.  It  was  acknowledged  that 
the  financier  was  ill,  but  the  newspapers,  that  were 
pro-Ward,  explained  that  Mrs.  Ward's  absence  was 
proof  enough  that  the  president  was  not  seriously 
ill.  All  the  next  day  equipages  rolled  through  the 
park  to  the  door,  and  cards  of  sympathy  for  the 
great  man  lonely  in  his  mansion  gathered  up  in 
pyramids  on  the  hall  tables.  Telegrams  of  inquiry 
poured  in  from  premiers  and  monarchs.  Daily  bul- 
letins were  posted  on  the  pillars  of  the  Ward  drive- 


534 


THE   NEW   DAWN 


way,  announcing  the  convalescence  of  the  president; 
but  what  puzzled  the  doctors  was  that  the  con- 
valescence did  not  progress.  It  was  arrested.  The 
patient  neither  responded  nor  sank.  He  seemed 
simply  waiting. 

Three  days  after  Madeline  had  received  the  tele- 
gram, Truesdale  was  ushered  into  the  Ward  iibrarj* 
to  find  the  president  lying  back  in  an  easy-chair.  1  he 
sick  man  gave  no  sign  except  to  motion  the  nurse 
from  the  room.    Then  he  looked  sharply  up. 

"You  have  been  with  Miss  Connor?"  he  said. 
"Your  marriage  was  in  the  morning  paper.  I  wish 
you  great  happiness." 

Truesdale  could  only  grasp  the  extended  hand. 

"Then  it  was  too  late,  the  telegram,  I  mean?" 
Ward  asked  lightly. 

"Yes,  it  was  delayed  on  the  stage,  but  I  have  ca- 
bled the  steamship  company  to  let  Mrs.  Ward  know 
of  your  illness." 

"And  I  have  ordered  the  yacht  across  to  be  at 
her  services  over  there.  She  hadn't  the  least  idea 
that  I  was  on  the  verge  of  a  bust-up  when  she  de- 
cided to  go  away  so  suddenly.  I  intended  to  join 
her  witu  the  yacht." 

There  was  silence;  then  Ward  was  asking  casu- 
ally: 

"Is  it  knowi  that  she  was  unwise  enough  to  go  by 
a  freighter  at  this  season?" 

"It  is  not  known  what  steamer  she  went  by!  I 
understood  that  she  was  called  so  suddenly  that  her 
luggage  had  to  be  sent  afterward." 


GREAT  FACT  OF  ALL  CKEEDS  53 j 

The  president  gazed  long  at  the  fire. 

"She  was  very  fond  of  your  wife,  Truesdale?" 

Somehow  the  remark  had  a  pleading  sound. 

"Yes,  one  of  those  things  we  men  don't  under- 
stand, that  friendship  between  women !  They  seem 
to  have  more  room  in  their  lives  for  that  sort  of 
thing  than  men  have  I  I  can't  tell  you  how  cut  up 
Madeline  was  to  miss  the  steamer." 

Both  were  speaking  with  constraint,  each  wonder- 
ing what  the  other  knew,  bridging  the  abyss  with 
the  commonplace. 

"If  I  should  kick  off  just  now,"  resumed  Ward 
thoughtfully,  "it  might  be  unpleasant;  unpleasant 
for  Louie,  you  know  I  Mrs.  Ward's  absence  might 
cause  remark.  As  soon  as  I  am  well  I'll  join  her 
abroad.  I  am  afraid  I  have  let  business  monopolize 
too  much  of  life.  True!  I  owe  Louie  these  lost 
years,  and  will  do  my  best  not  to  kick  off  too  soon, 
but  I  say.  True,"  he  laughed  awkwardly,  "if  it  hap- 
pens that  I  have  to  cash  my  checks — discount  the 
last,  big  check  ahead  of  time — can  I  depend  on  you 
and  Madeline  to  save  Louie  any  nuisance  of  gossip, 
sensational  reports  about  her  absence,  you  know?  It 
will  be  three  weeks  before  word  can  reach  I^ouie. 
I  understand  that  special  steamer  of  hers  makes  a 
twenty-one-day  job  of  the  herring  pond — rather 
slow  if  you  wanted  to  get  word  to  a  woman  that  her 
husband  had  taken  passage  to  the  other  world!  It's 
all  right  for  Louie — just  the  thing  she  needed,  a 
long,  ocean  voyage,  tone  her  nerves  up;  but  why 
the  deuce  I  had  to  go  off  the  bat  the  minute  Louie 


536 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


sails  for  Europe  I — well — I  depend  on  you  and 
Madeline  to  sidetrack  the  gossip  1  By  the  way,  I've 
made  a  little  provision  for  the  youngster  McGce 
your  wife  used  to  help!  Needn't  be  surprised,  you 
two,  if  I  ask  you  to  look  after  that,  tool" 

Not  another  word  did  Ward  utter  that  might  sug- 
gest anything  unusual  about  his  wife's  absence;  and, 
if  a  word  spoken  in  season  is  good,  the  unseasonable 
v.jrd  left  unspoken  is  better.  They  talked  far  into 
the  evening,  of  their  past  contest,  of  the  farcical 
justice  of  the  age,  of  the  ease  with  which  public  life 
could  be  debauched,  of  the  sharp,  hard  lines  of  bifur- 
cation that  were  splitting  the  democracy  of  the  nf-w 
century  into  plebeian  and  patrician  classes,  of  the 
danger  from  such  bifurcation  to  the  future  of  the 
human  race,  of  the  New  Dawn  if  the  two  forces 
could  come  together. 

"Tell  you  what  it  is,  True,"  exclaimed  Ward  vig- 
orously; "you  ^ried  to  swing  the  marketplace  along 
the  lines  of  the  Ten  Commandments  without  any 
force  behind  to  make  her  gol  I  tried  to  swing  the 
force  along  without  any  regards  to  the  great,  big, 
everlasting  laws  of  right  and  wrong  that  underlie 
the  foundations  of  this  old  universe !  And  we  both 
of  us  pretty  nearly  came  a  ripping  smash  1  You 
have  got  tt)  have  Power  to  be  abli  to  do  anything  in 
this  life.  Tf  you  don't  control  Power,  Power  will 
control  you;  but  you've  got  to  have  it  founded  on 
the  everlasting  laws — call  'em  Ten  Commandments 
or  what  you  like — of  Whoever  made  this  old  ball 
in  the  first  place,  and  set  it  spinning  through  space 


(^Ri:at  fact  of  all  crelds  537 

accordiMK  to  those  law,  I  You've  ^ot  to  have  I'ower 
to  (ight  the  wolvc-s,  or  else  turn  wolf  yourself,  or 
else  he  eaten  up ! 

"Tell  you  what  we  need,  True  I      It's  a  Jesus 
Christ  to  put  some  ginger  in  the  Ten  Command- 
ments;  to  teach  us  the  curse  of  father  to  children 
.snt  the  spite  of  a  vengeful  God,  but  the  taint  of 
bad  blood  workmg  out  in  the  children;  to  trace  back 
the  evil  act  to  the  evil  thought;  to  show  theft  in 
the  gross  ,s  just  as  much  theft  as  theft  in  the  small! 
You   see,   True,   all   this   mighty   learned   talk 
about  things  nowadays  is  just  poking  mud  to  make 
believe  the  waters  are  deep!     Your  scientists  talk 
about  transmitted  inheritance,  accumulated  tenden- 
cies, and  that  sort  of  thing  being  the  impulses  weVe 
inherited  through  a  billion  years  or  so  of  evolution 
from  animal  to  man!    But  I'm  hanged.  True   if  I 
see   much   difference,   when   you   strip   that  of  big 
words,  between  transmitted  impulses  to  act  like  a 
hog  and  my  poor  mother's  old-fashioned  doctrine  of 
ongmal  sin!     When  you  get  it  all  down  to  a  solid, 
rock-bottom  basis  of  hard  fact,  science  stripped  of 
Its  big  words,  religion  stripped  of  its  theologies- 
science  and  religion  should  be  the  same  thing!     At 
one  stage  in  the  game  I  thought  religion  mush  be- 
cause It  seemed  to  have  so  much  tweedle-dums,  and 
hymn-singing,     and     God's-will-be-done     to-sit-still- 
and-do-nothing  when  there  happened  to  be  a  par- 
ticularly hard  row  to  hoe !     I  decided  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments  were   a   crack  job   put  up   by  cunning 
priests  to  hold  the  people  in  tow!     I  thought  I'd  be 


538 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


hanged  if  I  let  God  himself  say  what  I  should  or 
should  not  do!  I  knew  most  of  human  laws  had 
been  jobbed  by  shark  lobbyists  to  fill  their  own  pock- 
ets, and  I  thought  about  the  same  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments— they  were  good  for  fellows  to  keep 
who  weren't  >!trong  enough  to  break  'em  and  defy 
consequenri- , : 

"But  th;it\  whit<.  !  naJe  my  mistake — I  tell  youl 
I  wasn't  -.(..(.ntifii  pn'mjhl  'Thou  shalt  not  steal' 
isn't  t'lL  riile  ot  a  Ciod  ■.\l!o's  a  martinet  I  'Thou 
shalt  not  Jtcal'  isn  l  sa  J  to  keep  mc  from  doing 
somi tiling  I  want  to!  It's  a  fact,  a  matter-of-fact 
statement,  jdst  ns  much  as  'Thou  shalt  not  put  thy 
hand  in  the  fire  without  being  burned!'  Command- 
ments aren't  ^Iv  n  as  orders!  They're  statements 
of  facts,  the  same  as  scientific  laws;  statKir  :its  of 
the  eternal  order  of  things  by  which  the  Aiirl^hty- 
Some-One  runs  His  job!  That's  it,  Tr.i  and  u m't 
you  forget  it!  I  knew  all  this  that  •■^.■h>  I  iin.;  .  ! 
up  against  Lynch  Law,  when  you  ssv  ■  I  i;k  v.  iHi 
your  motor!  That's  the  mistake  Louiv  nr.i.L'  t-io. 
you  know!  Only  she  dressed  her  excuse;  if:  i  i/f>fi- 
faluting  nonsense  about  'self-satisfaction,  nnd  Cvc 
being  above  law,'  'and  the  gratification  of  impulses 
being  right  because  they  spring  from  the  soul,  which 
is  a  part  of  God.'  I  don't  see  much  difference  be- 
tween Louie's  reasoning  and  the  modern  gabblers, 
who  say  'commerce  is  too  complicated'  for  the  old- 
fashioned  limits!  By  Jove,  True,  I  wish  she  were 
here  to-night!  I  think  we  could  both  see  things 
as  we  never  did  ueforel     You  know  she  realized 


GREAT   FACT  OF   ALL   CREEDS  S30 

that  I  was  off  the  track  all  along,  but  somehow  ,1,. 

couldn  t  make  me  s      tl  But  I  see  it  now 

I  see  it  now! 

"You  tried  Goodness  without  I'owerl  I  tried 
lower  without  (ioodnessl  Won't  go.  True' 
rou  ve  K"t  to  hitch  the  two  up  together  tight,  or 
you  I  have  a  stinking  mess  of  rotting  ideals  on  your 
hands,  .,n<l  I'll  have  Lynch  Law!  We've  got  to 
h.tch  cm  together  tight.  Goodness  and  I'ower,  to 
keep  our  new  <iemocracy  from  splitting  on  the  old 
Imcs  of  class  hate!  Seems  to  me  if  we  can  get  that 
combination— (Joodness  and  Power— it's  bigirer 
than  the  (ireat  Consolidated !  It's  a  New  Dawn  for 
humamty.  It's  better  than  hogging  the  whole  earth 
for  half  a  dozen  men!  It  will  roll  the  human  race 
along  a  peg  or  twc  to  a  \ew  Humanity! 

"Come  again,"  he  said,  as  True  rose  to  leave 
I  hey  say  strong  men  die  hard,  and  I'm  too  strong 
to  die  without  a  vigorous  kick!  I'll  fight  'em  to  the 
end,  the  way  those  old  Norse  fellows  used  to  sail 
out  on  a  bark  when  they  were  going  to  die  and  meet 
It  in  storm!  Come  again,  and  we'll  talk  this  new 
combination  over!  I  feel  the  way  I  did  when  I  set 
out  from  home  long  ago— as  if  I  had  got  hold  of  a 
great,  big  idea  worth  fighting  for,  as  if  half  a  dozen 
men  bound  together  with  this  Idea— fighting  fel- 
lows  with  lots  of  blood  and  brawn— might  hoist  the 
race  ahead  by  a  century  or  two !  I  feel  as  if  I  might 
begin  a  new  life  with  this  idea,  and  don't  forget  " 
he  called,  as  True  passed  out,  "don't  you  forget 
you're  a  lucky  devil  to  have  such  a  wife!" 


'wm 


540 


THE    NEW    DAWN 


f  I 


True  left  the  house  with  almost  a  liking  for  this 
bandit  of  the  marketplace,  who  aimed  greatly  and 
succeeded  greatly,  independent  of  scruple  or  re- 
straint, and  who  now  seemed  to  be  aiming  the  great- 
est of  all. 

Before  going  to  bed,  Ward  asked  the  nurse  to 
hand  him  an  iron  box,  from  which  Le  drew  the 
miniature  of  a  child's  face  with  long  black  curls, 
a  lock  of  hair  framed  in  ebony  and  a  broken  string 
of  corals  such  as  little  girls  used  to  wear.  They 
were  childhood  keepsakes  of  his  wife.  He  placed 
them  under  his  pillow.  Then  he  bade  the  nurse  draw 
her  cot  outside  the  door,  for  he  knew  that  he  could 
sleep  better  alone  in  the  room. 

Twice  during  the  night  the  doctor  tiptoed  up 
from  the  library,  and  looked  in  hopefully  at  the 
sleeping  face. 

"It's  odd  how  such  a  splendid  body  doesn't  re- 
spond to  the  stimulants!  It's  against  all  science," 
said  one  physician,  "but  that  sleep  is  natural!" 

But  so  is  Death  natural,  and  against  it  no  reme- 
dies avail,  for  when  the  nurse  looked  in  at  four  in 
the  morning  the  president  was  sitting  up  in  bed  with 
hands  clenched  to  the  counterpane  in  the  tensity  of 
their  struggle.  Like  the  Norse  heroes,  he  had 
fought  to  the  end,  and  no  one  had  witnessed  his 
defeat.    The  great  Force  was  dead. 


The  doctors  announced  an  elaborate  diagnosis  of 
exactly  what  heart  complications  had  caused  Ward's 
death.     Sermons  and  editorials  moralized  on  the 


GREAT    FACT   OF   ALL   CREEDS   541 

hiRh  pressure  of  living  which  had  cut  down  in  his 
pn.nc  such  a  man  of  strength  as  Ward;  but  1  think 
A.adehne  and  Truesdale  could  have  told  the  real 
cause  of  h.s  death  in  fewer  and  simpler  words, 
ihe  deta.ls  of  the  obsequies  do  not  concern  this 

Zotr'"'  "  ''''  ""^^^  ^''^  'P'"'  °f  ^he  time! 
and  one  newspaper  announced  that  forty  billion  dol- 
la  were  at  Ward's  funeral  in  the  person  of  the 
pallbearers.  Madeline  and  Truesdale  followed  the 
remams  to  the  yacht,  which  bore  the  body  to  a 
niausoleum  ,n  those  foreign  countries  which  Ward 
i'ad  thought  to  conquer.  Xcar  his  resting-place,  it 
was  sported,  Mrs.  Ward  had  retired  prosfrL  witL 

A  society  journal  of  the  muck-rake  species  gave 

2  account  that  was  too  guardedly  nameless  to  be 

.bclous  and  too  thmly  veiled  for  any  concealment 

f  two  runaway  lovers  escaping  a  husband's  wrath 

l'>   seekmg  refuge  on  a  slow  freighter,  where  they 

pent  a  honeymoon  of  three  weeks  on  mid-ocean 

How  lover-hke  that  honeymoon  was  we  may  guess- 

but  any  goss.p  the  report  may  have  caused  about' 

H,at  ZT        ''"^'"   "'^   ^■■''"'P^'y  disproved  by 
that  gentleman  at  once  coming  back  to   America 
where  he  frequented  club  life  as  before.     The  ad- 

m^'  'u"  "P"'"'  "PP"'-'"^  in  this  particular 
weekly  was  that  ,ts  name  was  generally  a  guarantee 
of  untruth.  Only  people  who  wante'd  to  be  e" 
cred,ted  what  ,ts  columns  reported.  About  that  scar 
of  a    ut  above  h.s  eyes  Hebden  vaguely  referred  to 


544 


THE    NEW   DAWN 


|i 


I; 


To  be  sure,  when  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden  was  onc( 
twitted  in  the  club  regarding  a  hurried  trip  to  thi 
moose  grounds  of  Quebec,  he  assumed  a  smile  thai 
might  be  taken  for  either  consciousness  of  his 
prowess,  or  indulgent  regret  over  past  folly;  bul 
when  it  was  noticed  that  his  air  suddenly  changed 
on  hearing  that  Mrs.  Ward  had  inherited  the  whole 
of  her  husband's  enormous  fortune  except  hand- 
some bequests  to  Budd  McGee  and  Mrs.  Jack 
Truesdale,  some  of  the  clubmen  expressed  very 
frank  opinions  about  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden,  which  it 
is  not  pleasant  for  a  gentleman  to  overhear. 

"I  could  respect  him  if  he  were  even  a  manly, 
decent  blackguard,"  a  voice  had  said,  and  Mr.  Dor- 
'  al  Hebden  passed  out  of  the  club  with  sensations. 
He  was  always  so  very  sympathetic,  so  very  con- 
siderate, so  very  comprehending  without  being  told 
—was  Mr.  Dorval  Hebden,  and  that  quality  con- 
tmued  to  give  him  great  favor  in  women's  eyes. 

As  for  Truesdale,  he  gave  his  wife  two  wedding 
gifts:  the  necklace  which  the  ruby  crank  had  suc- 
ceeded in  buying,  and  the  check  which  the  ruby 
crank  had  paid  for  the  jewels. 


THE   END 


was  once 
rip  to  the 
smile  that 
is  of  his 
folly;  but 
r  changed 
the  whole 
:pt  hand- 
Irs.  Jack 
ised  very 
,  which  it 
ir. 

a  manly, 
Mr.  Dor- 
snsations. 
I'ery  con- 
eing  told 
ility  con- 
eyes, 
wedding 
had  suc- 
the   ruby 


iatttiii«««i«MMH» 


^k 


